


Ghosting

by mason_writes



Series: Ghosting Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Dreams and Nightmares, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fiendfyre, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, Healers, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Luna Lovegood & Harry Potter Friendship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Potions Class (Harry Potter), Romance, Room of Requirement, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22190200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mason_writes/pseuds/mason_writes
Summary: For Harry, everything is different after the battle, even going back for his Eighth year. Hermione and Ron are working for the Ministry, Ginny is no longer his girlfriend, and Draco Malfoy has been released from house arrest. Now that he doesn't have a prophecy looming over his head and he doesn't have to save the world, what does he do?He's not sure how to find his way now that Voldemort is dead, but for some reason he keeps trying to be friends with a reluctant Draco Malfoy. Even though he found perfectly good friendships with Luna and Neville, he's drawn to Draco for reasons he can't explain. Maybe it's the long, complicated history that he wants to make amends for. Maybe it's all the dreams he's having about Draco and the fiendfyre. Or maybe it's something he can't put his finger on.This is purely an indulgent WIP fic for myself. Slow burn but with definite drarry endgame. Unedited or beta'd.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Series: Ghosting Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620301
Comments: 53
Kudos: 306





	1. The One Where Draco Malfoy is Suddenly There

**Author's Note:**

> This will be updated every few days as I write it. I don't have a specific word count or plot in mind, I'm mostly just having fun with it and will probably do a big edit once it's finished. But again, drarry is endgame so you have that to look forward to.

Location: Andromeda’s House  
Date: August 1999

The letter from Hogwarts surprised him but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he wasn’t good at keeping track of time and the start of the school year had snuck up on him. Maybe, for some odd reason, he had believed Hogwarts wasn’t going to be the same and they weren’t going to get letters. The letter seemed too normal after everything that had happened. 

He stared at it now. McGonagall’s familiar writing, a list of standard items that were necessary. Additional information for 8th year students, like Harry, who would be catching up on their studies. He set it down on the couch and focused his attention back to Teddy, blue haired and bright eyed playing with blocks on the carpet. Harry sat cross legged next to him.

Harry was not excited to be going back to Hogwarts, but there seemed to be nowhere else for him. It made him sad and nostalgic remembering the hot summers when he had yearned to be back at school. Safely tucked away in a dorm bed with the marauders map and his wand on his nightstand. He had felt invincible back then, not because of who he was but because of what Hogwarts was; reliable, unyielding, magical, safe, home. 

Now, all he could picture in his mind was crumbling walls, green sparks flying through the air, and blindingly hot fiendfyre. Very few parts of Hogwarts had been left untouched during the war. Very few parts felt safe when he remembered how easily the protective spells had been disarmed. 

He didn't voice any of these thoughts out loud to anyone. He had already worried his friends enough. He had learned getting lost in his head around Ron and Hermione often led to them whispering to each other or pointedly trying to reel him back into the conversation. So he tried very hard to not be the vacant person he felt like, and instead be present and appear unafraid. At least in front of them. 

Harry had dinner at the newly built burrow. He attended important ministry meetings about important things he soon forgot. He talked with Hermione about new laws that would protect one group or another - he didn't remember those details either. He went to see a healer every week who worked with patients who had been through trauma. She said he was doing well for someone in his position. Internally, however, he was exhausted. 

He admired Hermione for how well she was healing. Or maybe he envied that she moved forward by throwing herself into work, being a productive new member of the Ministry Peace Committee (a new title for a group of wizards/witches that were working on preventing future wars). 

He envied Ron for having his family to lean on, and for being well enough to accept the auror position from Kingsley. Harry had turned him down on the spot; he never wanted to duel again. 

He envied anyone who didn't have his face and scar. 

Teddy pulled on his hair and brought him out of his swirling thoughts. 

"Ouch," he said even though it hadn't hurt. Teddy had a habit of pulling on hair to gain attention and Andromeda wanted to break it. "We don't do that, Ted. We do this -" He lifted Teddy's small, chubby hand and patted his own shoulder. 

Teddy, ever the intelligent baby, crawled into his lap and repeated the motion with a determined look on his small face. 

"What is it?" Harry asked patiently. 

Teddy pointed to the door where Malfoy stood. Harry stared at him. And stared at him. He hadn’t even heard the front door open; anyone could have walked in.

This was the first time he had seen him since Harry had testified during Malfoy and Narcissa's trials 4 months ago. As far as Harry knew, Malfoy was still on house arrest. 

He checked his watch, a gift from Hermione, that showed the date and time. It had been… 7 months since the trials and 1 month since Malfoy would have been released from house arrest. Almost a year and a half since the battle. Harry seriously did not know how he lost track of time, but it kept slipping away like sand between fingers. 

"Potter," Malfoy greeted hesitantly. "I thought Andromeda was home." And that you wouldn't be here, hung unsaid. 

"She had to run out and asked me to watch Ted." Harry felt a bit vulnerable sitting cross legged on the floor with a toddler in his arms. He stood up carefully, and hoisted Teddy onto his hip. "What are you doing here?" 

Malfoy held out a box wrapped in black wrapping paper. It had a tag on it with what looked like neat cursive. "For Theodore. My mother apologizes for not delivering it herself." But she is still on house arrest, hung unsaid.

Harry walked over and took the small box. Teddy often received gifts from Narcissa but she usually sent them by owl. Harry wondered why she had sent Malfoy this time, maybe to get him out of the house. 

“Thanks,” Harry said, awkward and unsure. 

They watched each other for a second. Harry with his stubble, muggle clothes and slightly grown out hair. Malfoy with his entirely black outfit, pale skin and carefully styled hair. Harry noticed Malfoy had bags under his eyes, and his cheeks were a bit hallowed. 

“You need sun,” Harry said, then froze. Why had he said that? Had it been so long since he had interacted with someone that he had forgotten manners? “I don’t know why I said that.”

Malfoy, instead of getting angry like Harry expected, rolled his eyes. “You’re used to saying whatever crosses your bloody mind. If I were like you, I would say you need a shave and haircut. But since I was raised with manners…” 

Harry laughed a bit at this. Malfoy wasn’t wrong. 

“It’s a choice,” Harry replied. “People notice me less in public. Hides the-” he gestured vaguely to his forehead. “-you know.”

“As if any of us could forget.” Malfoy’s voice was unreadable. “I’ll be going.”

Harry wanted to keep talking but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he was sick of only talking to Andromeda and a baby. “Did you get your letter?”

Malfoy, who was half turned away, froze. “Why does it matter to you?”

“I suppose it doesn’t. But since I say whatever comes to my mind…”

Malfoy, though it looked like it pained him, gave a half smile at the bad joke. “I did. I see you received yours. I’m surprised it’s not on gold infused paper. Only the best for the saviour.”

Harry frowned, his mood turning sour. “I’m not any different now than I was before. We all did what we had to do.” He couldn’t help but take a jab at Malfoy, old habits. “And if it weren’t for me being the saviour you wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Of course,” Malfoy spat. “How foolish of me to not send a thank you card.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. Teddy was starting to fidget with the rising of tones. “I just -”

Malfoy stared at his forehead. Harry quickly patted down his hair but he must have seen how his scar was spreading. It looked like a crack in a window, jagged lines sprouting out from the original lightning bolt. He turned away, done with this conversation. 

“You can see yourself out.” He didn’t care if he was being rude. He felt exposed. 

Malfoy left without a word.


	2. Platform 9 and 3/4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be a little on the shorter end for now while I get into the flow of things. It's also easier for me to break it up by scenes.

Location: Platform 9¾ at King's Cross Station  
Date: September 1999

“It’s nice to see Draco, isn’t it?” Luna said airily.

“What?” Harry said. He had been zoned out. 

Luna nodded to Malfoy and Parkinson who were now in line for boarding the train. “It’s nice to see him. And Parkinson, I suppose. Though, she did tease me more than Draco had.” Luna didn’t look upset about that.

Harry followed her dreamy gaze, and accidentally made eye contact with Malfoy. He scowled and looked away. Malfoy stepped quickly onto the train, while they were still waiting for Neville. 

“I wouldn’t say it’s nice to see them.” Harry knew he was being mean, and it would disappoint Luna, but he didn’t particularly care.

“Why did you testify for them to be allowed to come back? If you didn’t want to see them?” Luna pinned him with an innocently curious gaze. 

“It was the right thing to do.” It wasn’t their fault, they were doing what they thought they had to, they didn’t have a choice, Harry felt bad he couldn’t have done more before.

“Not everyone thinks that. But I do, of course. They deserve a chance like all of us. Ah, there’s Neville, and look what he’s got.”

Neville wound his way over to them, and grinned, a plant cradled in his arms. He held it the same way Harry held Teddy.

“What’s that?” Harry asked. He stood from the bench and tucked his wand into his back pocket, along with his shrunken bags. 

“Dirigible plum tree.” Neville handed it to Luna. “Well, just a sapling but with some Sparkling Gro Powder, it’ll be full grown in no time. I thought you might like it, since, you know…” Neville trailed off.

Luna smiled widely, “It’s perfect. Do you think Professor Sprout will let me keep it in the greenhouses? I don’t think my housemates would appreciate a tree in the common room.”

Neville led the way to the line of people boarding the train. “She wouldn’t mind at all! She said over the summer I could have one of the new greenhouses for my plants. Isn’t that incredible…” 

Harry smiled as Luna and Neville launched into a conversation about various flowers and plants. He didn’t mind that he couldn’t keep up with them, and they didn’t mind that he often got stuck in his mind. Luna simply linked her arm through his to guide him. 

He was grateful that they had adopted him into their group. He had gotten close to them during the rebuild, and found he fit in quite well with them. They didn’t mind if he sat out of conversations, they were simply happy to have him there. They never questioned why he had bags under his eyes, or why he had grown a small beard and his bangs out.

He scratched at the sides of his recently shaved head. Andromeda had cornered him and said he needed to trim his bird’s nest. He didn’t think so, but they compromised; he kept his bangs to cover his scar, she could do what she wanted with the rest. It looked better than any other haircut he’d had - short enough around the sides and back to not look messy but long enough to cover his forehead. 

They boarded the train and Neville went ahead to look for a compartment to sit in. Luna ran a hand through Harry’s hair, ruffling it. “I think it suits you.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks. Not as nice as yours though.” 

Luna’s hair was pulled back into a complicated set of braids that flowed down her back. She bumped her shoulder into his. “You shouldn’t compare, Harry. But thank you.”

Neville started walking towards them, and shook his head. “No empty seats. We’ll have to sit with someone else.”

“I think I saw Ginny back there,” Luna said, gesturing over her shoulder. 

Harry jerked his head to look over his shoulder. “No.” He hadn’t meant for it to sound so forceful, but he wasn’t ready to see Ginny. Not yet. 

“What?” Neville questioned. But Luna nudged him. 

“Sorry, Harry, that was insensitive. We’ll sit somewhere else.” Of course Ginny had told Luna about their breakup, and he was thankful for her tactfulness. 

Neville, who clearly heard from Luna, said, “Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry about that, mate. Rotten luck.”

“It’s alright.” 

And it was alright, in essence. His breakup with Ginny hadn’t been a loud screaming fight. It had been such a quiet affair, that whenever Harry replayed it in his mind, he wondered if it actually happened. 

//flashback// 

“I want to break up.” Ginny stared at him across the kitchen table. Confident, self assured, level headed. 

Harry, though his face remained the same, had fallen apart in his mind. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen this coming - he had known things had been bad for awhile. But this was his last shred of normalcy and it was being pulled away from him.

It wasn’t Ginny’s fault. She had recovered exceptionally well after the war, graciously given him an abundance of time to figure himself out. But when time to himself turned into flat out ignoring her, she had cornered him in the kitchen of the burrow. 

“Okay,” he said finally. 

“That’s it? Okay?” Ginny questioned.

Harry squeezed his hands into fists under the table. He shrugged.

Ginny, to his surprise, smiled. “Oh, thank god.” she said. “I thought we were going to have a row. Oh, this went so much better than I thought it would.”

Harry forced himself to smile. “It’s okay. I understand.” 

He knew he was a sulking, grief ridden mess that was tolerable at best. That’s why he had been spending so much of the summer at Andromeda’s, distracting himself with taking care of Teddy. Andromeda didn’t ask questions like the Weasleys and Hermione did.  
Her care came in the form of breakfast made in the morning; a book on quidditch that she happened across and thought he would like; letting him hold a napping Teddy even though she was trying to get Teddy used to sleeping in his own bed. 

“I don’t want to lose contact. But I think you need to be on your own for awhile.” She reached across the table, and Harry uncurled one of his hands to hold hers. “You need to heal, but I’m not sure I can help you do that.”

“I know,” he said. 

“I still love you.”

His smile was genuine this time. “I love you, too.”

After Ginny left, Harry uncurled his other hand, and examined the half moon cuts his fingernails had left. 

//flashback end//

He felt himself being shuffled into a compartment, but he stared at the scars on his hand. Four pale, half moons. Andromeda would silently heal them whenever she noticed them, and Harry was thankful for that. He had honestly tried to break the habit, but most mornings he woke from bad dreams with his hands locked in tight fists. 

Harry looked up, and found himself face to face with Malfoy. 

“What are you doing here?” Harry blurted out. 

“Well, this is my compartment,” Malfoy sneered.

“Best if you all buggered off,” Parkinson added. She looked a wreck, but still had the same, snarky tone. She gave a condescending wave. 

“She’s right,” Harry said before Neville could respond. This year, he didn’t intend to bother anyone, much less Slytherins. He just wanted a peaceful, quiet year so he could study and get his NEWTs. “We should go.”

“There’s nowhere else-” Neville started.

Harry shot a look at him. “We’ll sit with Ginny. Anywhere else.”

Parkinson snorted. “So desperate to get away from Death Eaters that he’ll sit with his witch of an ex-girlfriend. Tell me, did she really break up with you because all the Great Chosen one can do is mope?”

He ignored the jab. Harry hadn’t meant it like that, but now that she pointed it out, he realized how bad he sounded. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he insisted. 

“Then what did you mean, saviour?” Malfoy asked. 

Harry flushed, and felt a bit like stomping on Malfoy’s polished shoes.

“I just don’t want to crowd you,” Harry tried to explain. When that sounded wrong he tried again. “This is your compartment, we have no business being here.”

“That may be the smartest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Parkinson said. A smirk lingered on her lips. 

Malfoy just stared at him, an unreadable look on his face. 

As they turned to leave, a younger student popped her head into their compartment. “The conductor wants everyone seated while the train starts.”

“We were just going to find a new compartment.” Neville towered over the younger student, but that didn’t seem to deter her. 

“Sorry, you’ll have to stay here. New rules, and such,” the student said, not bothering to look at all apologetic. She reminded Harry of a younger Hermione.

Luna sat down, still smiling at her sapling. Harry and Neville shared a pained look.

“If it’s not allowed, then why are you standing?” Malfoy’s voice surprised them, even the younger student. He was seated, legs crossed, and one eyebrow arched. 

Seeming to notice the Slytherins for the first time, her face blanched. Malfoy’s sleeves were rolled up a little, his Dark Mark peeking out from under his black sleeves. 

“I, uh, have permission,” she stammered. 

Malfoy noticed her staring at his arm, and tugged his sleeve down. “I’m not going to hex you.” Malfoy’s voice was incredibly unconvincing. 

“I might,” Parkinson muttered, making the younger student take a step back.

“She’s joking.” Neville amended quickly. 

The younger student left without saying anything else. 

Harry looked at Parkinson. “Why did you do that?”

Parkinson grinned but it was more of a snarl, all teeth. “One less student pestering me this year.”

Harry sighed. “Wish I could get them to leave me alone that easily.”

“What, your hand sore from signing so many autographs?” Parkinson rose an eyebrow.

“Terribly.” Harry held his hand limp in front of him. “But, maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll have enough strength to sign one for you.”

Parkinson rolled her eyes but not in a mean way (or maybe it was in a mean way and Harry was just a bad judge). Harry hadn’t meant to joke with Parkinson, but it had been so long since someone had treated him like that. Most of the time he got sympathetic smiles and pats on the shoulder when he complained about all the attention. It was refreshing to talk to someone else who, in a roundabout way, understood the annoyance.

After that, they lapsed into incredibly awkward silence. The only one who didn’t seem bothered by this was Luna. She chatted to Neville about dirigible plums and other trees they used to have at home. Neville shot looks at the Slytherins every now and then. Harry listened with half an ear, while he stared out the window. 

He noticed the Slytherins were writing on a piece of parchment paper to each other but decided he really didn’t care about them this year. After this compartment ride, he would avoid them. Especially Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of the characters and who your favourite is so far!


	3. First Day Back

Location: The Great Hall, Hogwarts Castle

Walking into the Great Hall was worse than Harry thought it would be. He had avoided the Great Hall during the rebuild, and instead focused on smaller parts of the castle. This was the first time he was seeing it since the battle and it felt wrong. It was like nothing had happened; the tables were mended and in their proper spots. The hourglasses on the walls were shiny and ready to be filled with points. It was as if nothing had happened, but his mind knew that wasn’t true. 

If his mind wasn’t enough proof, the hundreds of gawking students who froze at the sight of him were. 

“Piss off,” Neville muttered under his breath, only for Harry and Luna. 

This reminded Harry so much of Ron, he choked out a laugh, and started moving. They found seats next to other 8th years and Harry allowed Luna and Neville to shield him on either side. Luna should have been with the Ravenclaws, but their letters had stated that rules were more relaxed this year. They wanted to encourage inter-house friendships, and abolish old house rivalries. Slytherins and Gryffindors in particular were told to at least be civil if they could not friendly. 

The first years were sorted, and the ritual went by easily. Harry paid half attention, clapping when a new student sat at their table. When Zeng, Arin was finally seated at Slytherin, Professor McGonagall vanished the sorting hat, and walked over at the newly built podium. 

Everyone grew deadly silent. 

Harry stared at her, and for the first time since coming to Hogwarts, he saw how tired and aged she was. Still, she stood with her shoulders straight and her lips pinched. Her eyes met his for a brief second and Harry had to look away. He couldn’t stand the pity he saw in her eyes. 

Now would be when Dumbledore would say something inspirational, or thoughtful. McGonagall took a deep breath, opened her mouth, then closed it. Opened it again, then changed her mind. She pulled out a piece of crumpled parchment paper from her pocket, and flattened it on the podium. 

“We are indebted to those who sacrificed their lives for our freedom and education. Without them, we would not be here today, and for that we are grateful. I’m going to read a list of those who we lost.” Her voice hitched a little, and she paused for a moment. “To honour them and remember them. Please remain quiet and respectful.”

“Lavender Brown.” Her voice carried throughout the whole room, a little shaky. 

Luna squeezed Harry’s hand. 

“Vincent Crabbe” 

“Colin Creevey.”

The list continued, and Harry felt himself growing numb to the grief and loss. It was almost routine for him to bottle it up and bury it deep, deep down in his gut where he wouldn’t have to face it head on. 

He almost jumped out of his seat when he heard her say the name, “Tom Riddle.” But Dumbledore would have wanted Tom to be remembered. Not Voldemort, but Tom Riddle, the small orphan boy who had never felt what love was. 

He squeezed Luna’s hand. Neville pressed his shoulder against his. 

McGonagall finished, and the silence that followed weighed heavily in the air. Harry felt himself holding his breath though he didn’t know why. 

“We will remember,” McGonagall finished simply. Then she smiled at them, tears glistening in her eyes. She lifted her hands up, and the tables began filling with plate after plate of food. 

Students began to talk quietly, until the room was filled with chatter, and the sound of forks scraping plates. Harry, mostly for his friend’s sake, scooped food onto his plate so they wouldn’t worry. He picked at his food, trying to concentrate on the conversation Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were having. They were talking about the Room of Requirements. 

Everyone knew about the fiendfyre going wrong, and Crabbe falling. Harry pushed his spoon through mashed potatoes as he remembered the horrible heat. The wild creatures that lounged for them, furniture falling, blisters growing on his skin. He remembered hands on his waist, a bony chest against his back. 

He looked up and found Malfoy along the table. Parkinson was pressed against his side but it didn’t seem to be a romantic notion. She was doing what Luna had done for him, supporting him. 

“What do you think Harry?” 

“What?” Harry looked up, and saw Dean staring at him expectantly. 

“Do you think the Room is still there?” 

Harry shrugged. “Nobody could summon it during the rebuild, so I don’t think we could get to it now.”

“You were there, what do you think happened? Do you think it burned down?” Seamus asked, leaning forward. The sleeve of his robe fell into his soup bowl. With a sigh, Dean pushed his arm back, and spelled it clean. The interaction was so natural for Dean, that Harry wondered how close the two had gotten over the summer. 

“I don’t know,” Harry answered. He didn’t like talking about the war. Not now, or anytime soon. “It was…” He trailed off and realized it wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about it, it was that he physically couldn’t with completely shutting down. 

Thankfully, McGonagall stood at the podium and cleared her throat, ending the conversation. She briefly explained the rules, expectations for the year, how the 8th years will be joining the 7th years to finish their studies.

“Fighting or bullying based on old prejudices will not be tolerated. All students are to treat others as if they are your own housemates. Teachers, prefects and head students will be monitoring behaviours over the school year. Any students who do not adjust to this inter-house unity will be sent to my office.” She paused and surveyed the student’s reactions which were mostly wariness. “You are representing a new era of witches and wizards. I expect maturity and respectfulness to be shown. You are dismissed”

Harry was relieved that the feast was over. He had steadily ignored the eyes from younger students, but they were starting to grow on his nerves. 

“I’m going to find Cho,” Luna announced, and stood. To Neville she asked, “Are we still going to the greenhouses tomorrow at lunch?”

“Yeah, of course,” Neville replied. “Harry, do you want to join us?”

Harry didn’t really have any interest in plants or herbology but he shrugged and said he would. He wagered that there’d be less students staring at him in the greenhouses than anywhere else. 

Luna walked over to the Ravenclaw table, and Harry and Neville stood to follow Seamus and Dean. Harry rose an eyebrow at their interlocked hands, but Neville shrugged.

“You should have seen them last year,” Neville said quietly. “Barely talked to anyone but themselves, always huddled together in the Room of Requirements.”

Harry just nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. For some reason, he was inexplicably jealous of them. Jealous that they had someone to turn to, someone to watch out for them, and someone to listen when things got too hard. Harry knew he had Luna, Neville, Ron and Hermione. Probably more. But it wasn’t the same. He didn’t feel like they would understand what he was feeling. 

He had spent his whole school life fighting Voldemort, that now it was over, he felt useless. Empty inside, except for the always burning guilt and grief that resided behind his ribs. He had killed Voldemort, but how many people died along the way? He shook his head, not wanting to go down the path of self pity. 

Most of the Gryffindors retired quickly, all emotionally exhausted. Harry went through the motions of getting ready for bed, even though he knew he’d sleep fitfully. He set his glasses on the bedside table, and curled into his blankets, his wand under his pillow.

//dream//

“If we die for them, I’ll kill you, Harry!” Roared Ron over the flames.

Harry was used to visiting this memory in his dreams. He had done it so many times, he almost felt relaxed as he weaved around the flames that threatened to singe his sneakers.

Harry swooped down when he spotted Malfoy and Goyle. He grabbed for Malfoy’s hand but it slipped away. That was fine, he told himself. Hermione and Ron would get Goyle, and then he’d lift Malfoy onto his broom. He followed behind Hermione and Ron, and watched them haul Goyle onto their broom. 

He reached down a second time, and felt Malfoy slid onto the broom behind him, gripping his waist tight. Malfoy was yelling in his ear for the door, but Harry tuned him out and started scanning for the diadem. It was second nature to dive for it, as if it was the snitch, and hook it onto his wrist. 

He dodged the fiery serpent, and continued towards the door. But, something was wrong, he realized. The heat, though it always smothered them, was too close. He turned to see the serpent’s tongue licking the broomstick. He tried to go faster, tried to get away. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

“Harry!” Malfoy screamed, and Harry jerked because Malfoy hadn’t ever said his name like that before.

He looked over his shoulder, and helplessly watched as the serpent lunged and wrapped it’s somehow solid fangs around Malfoy and rip him away. Harry felt Malfoy’s hands slip from his waist, and he reached back to grasp one, desperately holding on. Malfoy’s face was twisted in pain and a horrible sound left his mouth, as the serpent pulled him away, disappearing into the inferno-

//dream end//

Harry jerked upwards and scrambled out of his bed, tripping onto the floor. His legs were tangled in his covers and he was covered in sweat. His bed, he thought. He was in his dorm. It was just a nightmare.

He uncurled his hands from fists, and sat on the edge of his bed, breathing heavily. He was used to living through memories in his dreams, especially from the war. But, they never changed like that one had. He had never felt more helpless in his life as he had when he watched Malfoy’s body slide into the fire. Something ugly curled in his stomach making him feel nauseous. 

He stood from his bed slowly, and once his stomach settled, he shoved his feet into his sneakers. He wasn’t going to sleep again tonight, so he grabbed his glasses and wand. He didn’t bother with his invisibility cloak, but he did put a silencing spell on his shoes so he wouldn’t wake the others.

The Fat Lady gave him a disapproving look, but opened anyway without a word. He stepped out of the portrait hole and made his way through the familiar corridors, tapping his wand against his leg. It was much cooler out here, and he was glad he had jogging pants and a sweater on now. 

He found his way to the Great Hall, and was surprised to see a few students at the tables, with tea or toast in front of them. A group of young Gryffindors glanced up at him, and giggled. One even waved. He thought about turning back, when his eyes landed on a blond figure at the Slytherin table. 

Malfoy’s scream echoed in his head.

Harry made his way to the Slytherin table, and sat across from Malfoy. He reasoned that he was making sure Malfoy was okay, since the dream had been so startling. Then, he realized that didn’t make any sense and he had no reason to be here. 

Malfoy had his head buried in a heavy novel, his left hand wrapped around a cup of tea. He looked up, and rose an eyebrow. 

“Just because we sat in the same compartment on the train doesn’t mean you can sit with me at breakfast,” Malfoy drawled. He had a cool composure on and was fully dressed in his dark cloaks, but Harry saw the dark bags under his eyes. He wondered how long Malfoy had been awake for.

Harry shrugged. “I’d rather sit here than with the annoying group of second year Gryffindors.” 

Malfoy glanced over Harry’s shoulder. Harry looked too, and the girls giggled, pushing each other’s arms. Harry scratched his stubble and stifled a yawn.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Fan club too much for you at five in the morning?”

“I guess,” Harry said, and cleared his throat. He hadn’t realized how dry it was. At almost the same second he wished he had juice, a glass of pumpkin juice appeared. He drank from it, then said to Malfoy. “What are you reading?”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “I meant what I said. We aren’t friends, Potter, and I’d appreciate if you stopped acting like we were.”

“I’m just being polite,” Harry muttered. 

Malfoy stared at him for a few more moments. “Arithmancy textbook for class.”

Harry made a face at the subject. “How can you possibly have readings to do on the first day back?”

“I’m reading ahead. It’s not like I had time to sit around doing homework last year.” Malfoy said it casually like he was busy with extracurriculars last year, instead of fighting on the wrong side of a war.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Harry said awkwardly.

“If you’re trying to reassure me, you’re doing an atrocious job at it,” Malfoy said. 

Harry rolled his eyes, and ran a hand through his hair.

“So that’s why your hair always looks like a mess,” Malfoy said, noting the bad habit. “You know, I can’t be seen with someone who looks so bedraggled. It will ruin my reputation.”

“I think you already ruined it yourself,” Harry said without thinking. 

He hadn’t realized how rude he’d sounded until he heard Malfoy’s book snap shut. Malfoy had actually been trying to joke with him and he had been a complete arse. 

Malfoy stood up abruptly, his face hard and unreadable. His mug of tea vanished, and he stalked away, his robes billowing behind him. 

“Fuck,” Harry muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this fic in 2016, so I decided to rewrite/edit the old chapters and continue writing. This is the last of the old chapters - from now on I'll be posting one chapter every couple days. I like to write ahead by a couple scenes if I can, so that I'll always have something to post even if I miss a day of writing. 
> 
> Tell me what you think of Drarry interactions so far!


	4. The one Where Luna Knows All

Location: Potion’s classroom & the Black Lake  
Date: September 1999

Despite being vacant and having trouble paying attention to conversations, Harry found his classes were surprisingly easy now. He no longer had to worry about dying or hunting horcruxes, which left him with more brain power than he was used to. He found himself taking notes, keeping up with discussions, succeeding at brewing his own potion by himself. Slughorn, though his opinion of Harry had always been high, had told him his Draught of Peace was nearly perfect. 

Satisfied with his work, Harry swept an arm over his sweaty forehead and began packing up his supplies. He wasn’t sure why Slughorn hadn’t moved on to the next student, but he finally looked up to see Slughorn staring at his forehead.

“My dear boy, your scar,” Slughorn said, a hand outstretched as if he might touch it. 

Harry’s cheeks flushed as a few heads turned, trying to get a glimpse of his growing scar. “It’s fine,” he muttered, shoving his items into his bag. “Have a good day, Professor.”

He left before class was dismissed. Once he was a ways down the hall, he carefully patted down his bangs and combed his fingers through his curly hair. He had felt so good only moments before, but he could never completely leave his past behind. He would always be seen through the cloud of his scar, or his prophecy, or as the savior. Merlin, he hated that word. 

He made his way from the dungeons out to the courtyard and down the winding dirt paths. He found himself heading towards Hagrid’s hut and quickly adjusted his course to the Greenhouses. Hagrid wasn’t returning as the Gameskeeper this year - he had also been chosen as one of the members of the peace committee since he had valuable connections to the centaurs and giants. Somehow, Hagrid’s hut hadn’t been damaged during the battle and in a letter he had told Harry he could visit there whenever he needed some peace and quiet. Sometimes Harry forgot how well Hagrid understood him. 

“Harry!” Neville called. 

Harry looked up to see Neville and Luna along the shore of the Black Lake. Luna sitting on a rock with her feet in the water, Neville with his trousers rolled up knee deep in the seaweed. Luna’s hair was blowing freely in the wind. 

“It’s bloody cold out to be in the water,” Harry said as a greeting. He was cold even with his heavy cloak on. 

“Warming spells,” Luna answered in her lovely voice. “I used the in the bathtub at home, and a lakes not so different.”

“Suppose not,” Harry agreed. He sat down next to her, and leaned back on his hands. The toes of his shoes brushed with the rippling lake every now and then, but he didn’t mind. “How are you, Luna?” Neville was too far into the water for conversations, and he seemed preoccupied. 

“Same as always,” she said with a small smile. She swished her feet back and forth in the water, disrupting the dirt and seaweed that had settled at the bottom. “You look troubled.”

Harry laughed a little. “I guess you could say that. I can’t help but want to spell away my scar so people would stop staring at it.”

Luna reached up and brushed his bangs to the side. “I think it’s charming. It makes you look dangerous or roguish.”

“Roguish?” he repeated with a laugh.

“More roguish than I look for sure.” Luna brushed her fingers against his stubble. “The beard helps as well.”

“I think you’re very roguish, Luna.” He said this with a straight face and she burst out laughing, her eyes crinkled. “Anyway, other people don’t find me dangerous or roguish. They stare at me like I’m a museum piece. Three first years actually had the nerve to ask if they could touch it.”

“Did you let them?” 

He shot her a look. “Course not, I said their fingers would singe off if they tried.”

“You probably terrified them,” Luna said in a way that made him feel a bit guilty.

“Well,” he said in his best impression of Parkinson. “One less student pestering me this year.”

Luna giggled at this. They sat in silence for a few moments and watched as Neville tossed wads of plants onto the shore. One bunch of seaweed hit particular close and splashed their rock with water.

“Oi!” Harry yelled, wiping water off his glasses. “Watch it, mate.”

“Sorry!”

Luna didn’t seem too bothered by it, but he did feel her put a small shield up between them and the plants landing on the shore. Her magic always had a peculiar feeling, and as he spent more time with her, he became more attuned to it. It was comforting like a prickly wool blanket. 

“Can I ask you something?” Harry wasn’t sure who to ask about this, but if anyone would be understanding, it was Luna. 

“Of course,” Luna said. 

“Do you ever…” he trailed off as he tried to collect his thoughts. “Do you ever feel like you always say the wrong thing to someone? Like you can’t help but bugger it up somehow?”

Luna stared out across the lake, her eyes reflecting the sun. “I always feel like I say the wrong thing. Nobody ever seems to like what I say. Well, except you and Neville.” She smiled at Harry. “Sometimes it can be hard to make thoughts into words that other people understand.”

Although it may have sounded ridiculous to someone else, Harry understood her perfectly. He bumped his shoulder against hers. “Exactly. I feel like I spend too much time trying to explain myself and it never works.”

Luna leaned against his arm. “I find that some people won’t hear what you’re saying, even if you take the time to explain it over and over.”

Harry thought about this, and it made him sad thinking about how people treated Luna. She had amazing things to say but nobody ever wanted to listen. “I’ll always listen to you, if you have something to say.”

“Even if I’m being barmy?”

Harry grinned, and twisted a piece of Luna’s hair. “Especially if you’re being barmy.”

“Who’s this about anyway? The person you say the wrong thing to?”

Harry thought about this and it seemed like he could never say the right thing to anyone. Hermione and Ron, Ginny or Molly, Andromeda sometimes. A small voice in the back of his mind said, ‘especially with Malfoy’. But he wouldn’t say this out loud, not even to Luna. 

“Nobody. Everybody. Sometimes I never want to speak again.” This felt incredibly vulnerable, but Harry trusted Luna enough to hold this secret of his. 

“I’d be lonely if you never spoke again. Well, maybe not. As long as I could chat your ear off, I think we’d be fine.” 

“As long as it’s not about Arithmancy,” Harry replied. 

Neville broke in as he walked over to them, sending ripples of water as he moved. “It’s bloody freezing in here, I can’t feel my toes. Luna, how are you not freezing.”

“Warming spell.” She tapped her wand to her temple and winked at Neville. 

Neville threw his head back. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. 

Harry laughed. “What’s a few lost toes if you found some…” He tried to identify anything in Neville’s pile of plants, but it all just looked like green mush to him. “Wet spinach?”

Neville flicked water at him, but Luna’s shield blocked it. “These are incredible plants, for your information. This one right here.” He held up a wad of green plant. “This is ceratophyllum demersum. It can drop all its leaves and grow them back within a few weeks. Imagine if humans could grow their limbs back at will.”

“That’s really interesting, Neville.” Luna was genuine when she said things like this. She would never mock or belittle Neville for his interests which Harry admired about her. 

She stepped down off the rock with the help of Neville and began picking up different plants. Each one had a very long and complicated name, but Harry tried to listen very hard to Neville when he explained what each one was. 

Once Luna and Neville had collected all the aquatic plants, Harry held a net bag open while they piled them in. He reluctantly helped carry the dripping, smelling bags back to the greenhouse. Luna helpful spelled their clothes clean once they were done, leaving Harry feeling like he had just drank earl grey tea. 

As they made their way back to the castle, Harry allowed his mind to drift while the other two chatted. He thought about how Malfoy always made him feel wary and wondered if that was why he never said the right things. He wondered if he should apologize to Malfoy, or if he should just continue to ignore him. 

If Hermione was here, and if she didn’t know it was about Malfoy, she would tell Harry to write him a letter and apologize. If Ron were here, he’d probably agree with Hermione and suggest Harry and this person go out for butterbeer. 

Neither option seemed like the best way to go so he decided he would simply apologize in person the next time he saw him. If Malfoy still hated Harry after that, he would go about his studies and ignore him. If Malfoy accepted it then… Harry would deal with that when the time came.


	5. The one Where Harry and Draco actually Get Along

Location: Hogwarts Infirmary & Library  
Date: October 1999

Harry dreaded his meetings with his Madam Pomfrey. She had taken over for his healer since Harry had returned to school, and short weekly visits had turned into long, biweekly check ins. She was more thorough than his other healer had been, and a lot more nosy. She wanted to know how many hours he was sleeping, if he had any nightmares, how he was performing while awake. What he ate at lunch, how much water he drank.

At the end she asked if he was open to taking medication for his trauma, which he declined for now. His other healer had mentioned it to him before, but he had always meant to talk to Hermione about it. He’d have to send her a letter to ask about medication and see how she and Ron were doing. 

As he left the infirmary, he thought about his recent nightmares and dreams which he had not told anyone about. They usually revolved around the battle and things he'd done; the good dreams were ones where he managed to save Tonks or Fred and the bad ones were where he lost everyone. 

He also had the same dream about the fiendfyre in the Room of Requirements. Sometimes Malfoy shouted his name and tried to grab onto Harry's coat as he was yanked off the broom. Other times he slipped quietly away and Harry didn't notice he was alone until he reached the entrance. These dreams haunted him during the day, and he often found himself looking for blond hair in the crowd. 

But outside of classes he hadn't seen Malfoy in weeks and hadn't had a chance to apologize. After many hours of consideration, he still wasn't sure what he would say. There was a lot to apologize for, on both ends, and it was hard to know where to start. 

He found his way to the library since there was no point going to the great hall for the tail end of lunch. He had a free block anyway, and needed to work on assignments. That was the one constant that his life revolved around - keep track of essays, finish assignments, hand them in. There were no hidden meanings he had to consider or things he really struggled with. If an essay took him hours, it took him hours but he finished it nonetheless. 

His usual table was occupied by books and parchment paper but the person sitting there was currently gone. Harry, unwilling to give up his routine, shuffled a few books out of the way and sat down at the other end of the table. There was enough room for four people to study here but the previous person had spread their belongings all across the table. 

He began working on his essay for defense against the dark arts, a class he excelled in. He found it interesting to learn about defensive spells when it wasn't a necessity. 

"What are you doing?" 

Harry looked up to see Malfoy hovering by the other chair. Harry saw he had books tucked under his arm, and that he must have been the person to sit here before Harry. Harry knew his quill was dripping ink all over his essay but he couldn't find the ability to move. 

"Are you deaf or stupid?" Malfoy asked as he set his books down heavily. 

"Sorry, didn't know it was you," Harry said meekly as he gestured to Malfoy stuff. "By the way…" And then he trailed off because he realized all his apologies were shit. 

Malfoy reluctantly sat down and began packing away his things. "By the way, what? Spit it out, Potter." 

"I'm sorry for being a prat all the time." Harry decided if he was going to sound like an idiot, he might as well do a thorough job apologizing. "I know we can't forget everything that's happened, but I really just… want to start over?" 

Malfoy leveled him with a heavy gaze, eyes narrowed and judging. "Why? What's in it for you?" 

Harry was a little annoyed Malfoy would assume Harry had ulterior motives but he squashed that down. "Nothing, I'm just sick of carrying all this guilt. I'm not asking you to be my best mate, but we've grown out of being enemies, haven't we?"

Malfoy tutted. "As if we could be friends. Regardless, this rivalry has grown tiresome. I suppose we could be civil."

"Really?"

"You'll catch flies if you leave your mouth hanging open like that." Harry closed his mouth and Malfoy continued speaking. "Although it pains me to say this, I accept your apology and extend my own. We all did unsavory things that are in the past now."

"Unsavory." Harry laughed. "You mean downright petty, and vile things." After a moment he amended, "I'm calling myself out too, it wasn't only you. I was a tosser."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You're still a tosser but you have grown to be more tolerable… and quieter which anyone appreciates." 

Harry snorted. "Well I guess we're… acquaintances now." 

"Didn't think you knew words that long." 

Harry blinked and for a moment he was irritated but then he saw the playful smirk on Malfoy's face. "Didn't think you could joke around like that." 

"Please, I'm a riot. Anyway, I have to finish this essay and you may remain here if you promise not to be too irritating."

"You sound like Snape." 

Harry regretted saying it but it didn't seem to make Malfoy angry. He simply hummed and went back to his readings. 

Harry couldn't believe it. For the first time since meeting, he and Malfoy were coexisting without wanting to hex each other. It was surreal that Malfoy had agreed so easily, but maybe he was tired too. He looked older now that Harry thought of it. Still clean shaven, but his face was sharper and his eyes were more calculating. He had been forced to grow up quickly, just like Harry. 

Harry almost opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it. He would not mess this up. 

Harry spelled the mess of ink of his page and began finishing his essay. It wasn't a terribly long one, but he double checked his references and spelling. He hadn't realized how much time had gone by until he sat up straighter and his back cracked. He checked his watch; they had sat in the library for an hour and a half. 

"I'm done," Harry said as he tossed his quill in his bag. He stretched his arms above his head and let out a big yawn. The librarian shushed him but he ignored her. "You still working? 

Malfoy didn't respond. Maybe he was going to be less civil than Harry thought. 

Then, Harry realized he wasn't simply resting his head on his page, Malfoy was asleep. Harry didn't know how he could have fallen asleep that easily, but he thought he should wake him. 

He used a spell that Hermione had taught him, evigilare faciatis, that would calmly wake the other person without startling them. She had used it on him many times when he was having nightmares. One moment he was asleep and panicking, the next he was awake. 

Malfoy lifted his head and looked around, blinking blearily. He looked at Harry, his hair rumpled. 

"You fell asleep, it's almost supper time. You didn't have class did you?" 

Malfoy stifled a yawn and shook his head. "All eight years have this block free. Thanks for waking me. I'm meeting Pansy soon, she'll be pissy if I'm late." 

There wasn't a trace of snide or sarcasm in Malfoy's voice. Not wanting to ruin it Harry cleared his throat. "Hope you, uh, have a good time."

Malfoy stared at him curiously. 

"What? I'm being nice." Harry's cheeks flushed. Malfoy's silence was highlighted by how quiet the library was. 

"That was completely weird, we should never try that again," Malfoy said with a small laugh. 

Harry rubbed his hands under his glasses. "Why is it so hard to be nice to each other.”

“It took years of being mean to each other to reach this point, it won’t be undone in one conversation.” Malfoy packed his things into his bag. “Promise me you’ll never wish me a good time again and we can continue these study sessions.”

“We didn’t even talk, how could you call that a study session?” Harry watched as Malfoy slung his bag over his shoulder and stood. 

“We didn’t, and it was gloriously peaceful. See you round, Potter.”

Harry, despite feeling a little awkward, felt like that went better than anyone could have expected.


	6. To Be So Lonely

Location: Library   
Date: November 1999

They had unofficial study sessions during their free block after lunch. One of them, whoever showed up first, precurred a table and when the other got there they greeted each other. Then they just studied in silence. It motivated Harry to finish difficult assignments as he looked forward to studying with Malfoy. They never chatted much, but sometimes they helped review each other’s work. Although Harry excelled in the hands on part of potions, he found his marks were lacking with his written projects; Malfoy helped him with wording and sounding more professional. Harry helped Malfoy with defense against the dark arts theory. They got on well. 

One day, Harry entered the library to see Malfoy at their usual table. Malfoy had his head on the table, hands behind his neck. Harry knocked on the table as a greeting. “Afternoon.”

Malfoy simply hummed and did not lift his head. 

Harry sat and began unpacking his bag. “How are you?”

Malfoy lifted his head to reveal dark bags under his eyes and stubble. He looked disheveled, tired, and entirely un-Malfoy. “Fucking swell.” 

Harry noticed that his voice was scratchy too. “What happened to you?”

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, uncaring of how messy it looked. “Madam Pomfrey cut off my supply of dreamless sleep. I was up half the bloody night.”

Harry sat back. He hadn’t thought to use dreamless sleep before; Hermione always told him those potions were addictive and did more harm than good. He felt like he was seeing Malfoy in a different, more truer light now. 

“You must feel like shite,” Harry finally said. He still wasn’t good at being nice or comforting to Malfoy. They strictly stayed in the comfortable territory of playful banter. 

“I want to die.” Malfoy fiddled with his quill. “All because of some stupid nightmares.”

“I get them too,” Harry offered. This was more personal and genuine than they usually were, but Harry felt like it was progress. “Every night.”

Malfoy looked at him. It was quiet in the library, only a few students studying across the other tables. He lowered his voice, “What about?”

Harry exhaled slowly. “Fiendfyre. Voldemort. Coming back.” Harry crossed his arms tightly. He felt very exposed talking about this in public.

Malfoy’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean coming back?”

It wasn’t common knowledge that Harry had died and come back, and Harry wasn’t really sure if he wanted Malfoy to know this. He had only told Hermione, Ron and Andromeda; all of them had been speechless.

“Ask me again in a few months,” Harry said with a small smile. “Maybe I’ll be ready to talk about it then.”

Surprisingly, Malfoy nodded in understanding. “Fair play. I dream about the fiendfyre too. Sometimes candles make me jump when I’m awake.”

This felt like a peace offering, a small truth in return for Harry’s honesty. “I can’t even go near the fireplaces anymore or floo Hermione and Ron. I just think of how suffocating it was…”

They sat in silence for a few moments, both thinking about fire and the diadem. After a while, Malfoy sat up straighter and combed his hair flat. “Well, this has been endearing but I have an essay to revise.”

“Want a second pair of eyes?” Harry asked. He was glad to be on a safer topic. 

Malfoy made circles with his fingers and held them up to his eyes. “You mean two sets of eyes, four eyes.”

Harry huffed a laughed. “Alright, finish your essay alone, you wanker.”

Malfoy smiled and passed his essay to Harry anyway. Harry adjusted his glasses and began editing the essay, making small notes on a separate piece of parchment paper. There wasn’t much to change - Malfoy was very well written and rarely made errors. While Harry edited, Malfoy read a book or at least pretended to read. 

After Harry handed back the notes and the essay, they fell into companionable silence. Harry worked on a charms essay while Malfoy made changes.   
“Harry,” Luna said. 

Harry looked up from his work to see Luna skipping into the library. She stopped by his chair. To Malfoy she said, “Draco, how are you?”

Malfoy gave her a thin smile, clearly too tired for this interaction. “Superb.”

“Luna, how’ve you been?” Harry redirected attention away from Malfoy. He also hadn’t seen her in a few days and was curious to what she was up to (he suspected she and Neville were sneaking off for lunch dates, which didn’t bother Harry at all)

“Peachy,” she said easily. She smiled brightly. “I wanted to tell you, my dirigible plum tree is fully grown. Do you want to come see it?”

Harry found he was genuinely excited. “Of course. Right now?”

“If you’re not busy.” Usually Luna wouldn’t interrupt a study session, but she seemed too excited to care. She turned to Malfoy. “You’re welcome to come as well, if you’d like.”

Harry and Luna were both staring at Malfoy. Malfoy seemed surprised to be invited, but he quickly adjusted his expression to indifference. “Cant, have to finish this essay.”

Harry knew the essay could have waited but he didn’t call Malfoy out. “I guess I’ll see you round then, Malfoy?” He shuffled his books into his bag and stood. 

“See you!” Luna said cheerily. Malfoy’s expression said something along the lines of ‘that’s unlikely’ but at least he wasn’t mean.

Malfoy waved a dismissive hand and Luna linked her arm with Harry’s. 

Once they were out of the library, Luna squeezed his arm. “How are things going with Draco?”

“Fine,” Harry replied. “Turns out he can be decent when he tries and he’s almost as smart as Hermione. My marks have gone up since he’s been editing my essays.”

Luna smiled widely. “Sounds like you’re finally listening to each other for once.”

Harry thought back to their conversation at the lake. He’d never mentioned Malfoy’s name. “How did you know who I was talking about? Back at the lake?”  
Luna winked at him. “The nargles told me.”

Harry elbowed her lightly. “No, seriously how did you know? Was it that obvious?”

Luna shook her head. “Not to other people, but I know you well enough to tell. Anyway, I’m just glad you’re finally getting along. It sets a good example for the younger students.”

“I suppose. House unity and everything.” He was still curious how Luna had known he had been talking about Malfoy. Sometimes he found that he underestimated her. And possibly nargles. “I had a question.”

“Go on.” They made their way to the entrance, and stopped to pull scarves and hats out of their bags. Luna silently cast a warming spell before they went outside.

“What’s going on with you and Neville?” Harry smiled as he said this, and didn’t miss the way Luna’s cheeks flushed. 

“I think it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” Luna said. She kicked some snow in front of them. “He’s always had a crush on me but I didn’t believe he was being genuine for a long time.”

“Did you think he was joking?”

Luna nodded. “It’s happened before. People asking me out for a laugh. I guess it takes a long time for me to trust people, thought I like to think I see the best in people.”

They walked through the heavy snow, snowflakes landing lighting on their cheeks. Harry said, “I think you two make a good pair. Neville seems to understand you, even better than I do.”

Luna leaned into Harry. “Don’t underestimate yourself. I think you get me in ways Neville can’t, but it doesn’t mean one of you is better. Just different.”

“Well,” Harry said as he kicked a pile of snow up. It swirled up in the air. “I hope you two are happy. You really deserve it.” He meant this too. They all deserved some happiness. 

As they approached the greenhouses, Harry could see the vast, magnificent plum tree, with branches sprouting through open windows. Plums floated around and Neville seemed to be collecting them. 

Luna skipped ahead to meet Neville, and Harry watched the way she greeted him. A hand on his arm as she pointed to the different plums. He heard her talking about which ones were ready and which ones still needed time to ripen. Harry was happy for his friends, though he did feel a bit lonely. 

How awful that he resented them, just a tiny bit, for understanding each other in a way Harry had never experienced. How could he date someone when they’d only be interested in his scar or his prophecy? How could he find someone he could trust when he trusted hardly anyone?

As Luna handed him a plum, he smiled at her and tucked it into his pocket for later. He decided to push the thoughts away, and be present in the moment for once. 

He watched as the tree twisted and sent plums spiralling through the air. Luna jumped for some, a wide grin on her face. After awhile, Harry joined her, reminded of reaching for the snitch. 

The three of them filled baskets of plums for the kitchen, made snow angels on the ground, and built snow witches and wizards. Neville used two big plums as the eyes, making the snow wizard look like it was in shock. Harry grabbed two more and pushed them onto the snow witches chest - Luna shoved him but she was clutching her stomach as she laughed. 

Harry, in this moment, was grateful for his friends but didn't understand how he could simultaneously be so lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little heart to heart :) More drarry to come.


	7. To Be Someone Else

Location: Hogsmeade  
Date: December 1999

“This is ridiculous. I feel like a nutter,” Malfoy hissed under his breath. 

“It’ll be fine, the potion won’t wear off for another two hours.” Harry adjusted his scarf, shielding his face from the wind. 

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to do this.”

Harry and Malfoy were heading towards Hogsmeade, dressed in plain cloaks, wearing strangers’ faces. He had convinced Malfoy to use polyjuice potion that Hermione had brewed so they could go to Hogsmede in peace. She had snagged hairs off random Muggles so Harry and his friend (Harry did not tell Hermione said friend was Malfoy) would have two hours of disguise. It had been Harry’s idea to use polyjuice potion, but Hermione’s idea to use muggle hairs. 

Malfoy had been reluctant at first but eventually, he had agreed out of curiosity. He didn’t quite trust Hermione’s brewing skills, but he had told Harry he was sick of people staring at his arm. Harry felt like Malfoy was the only other person who understood what it felt like to be sick of being yourself. 

It was nearly christmas, meaning that Hogsmeade would be full of shoppers and they could hopefully blend in with the crowd. They trudged through snow with heavy cloaks dragging behind them, and scarves blowing in the wind. Most of the students was inside avoiding the cold, which made it an even better time for their plan. 

“What’s my name again?” Harry asked suddenly. In his giddiness, he’d forgotten the name he had picked as his disguise.

“Bertrude,” Malfoy said without hesitation. 

Harry elbowed his side. “It was not! What was my name, seriously?”

Malfoy shot him a scathing look. “It was James. You’re entirely uncreative name is James. Mine is Luc.” 

Harry couldn’t believe he had forgotten his fake name was James, he felt a bit silly. 

Harry grumbled into his scarf, “Not like your name is anymore creative. You just shortened your father’s name.”

Malfoy did not respond to this and looked ahead. There were some topics they still couldn’t talk about despite the progress they had made. 

As they entered Hogsmeade, Harry held his breath, waiting for the stares and reactions from people. He felt Malfoy slow beside him, holding his breath as well. But nothing happened. Nobody paid them any attention. 

They stopped in front of a store window and stared at their reflections. Harry, or James, was sandy haired, tall man with a thick beard and a soft figure. Malfoy, Luc, was a bit shorter with curly black hair and thick framed glasses. 

Although he looked nothing like Harry actually did, Harry nudged him. “You look like me. Well, normal me.”

“Shut it, I do not.” But there was no malice in Malfoy’s voice. 

They were both too surprised that their plan had worked to be annoyed with each other. Without thinking, Harry linked his arm with Malfoy, the same way he did with Luna. At first Malfoy resisted but Harry just pulled him along.

“Come on, let’s go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. I want to see what George has come up with.” Harry hadn’t seen George in ages, and even though George wouldn’t know it was him, it would still be nice to see how he was. 

Harry was on cloud nine walking through the crowd under this disguise. It was like everything he’d ever dreamed of was coming true - nobody could judge him or make assumptions about him because he was a nobody. He felt a little sad knowing this anonymity would only last two hours, but he quickly pushed that thought away. He was going to enjoy his time as James. 

There were so many people walking around that they were frequently jostled around. Malfoy complained about being treated like a muggle, but Harry just laughed. At one point, someone bumped into Malfoy so hard, he fell into Harry. Harry supported him for a moment before Malfoy swatted his arm away. 

“I’m fine,” Malfoy snapped. “God, these people. If they knew who I was-”

“But they don’t,” Harry said cheerfully. He almost felt like skipping, but there wasn’t room. “To them you’re just a bog standard wizard. So am I.”

Malfoy shook his head but Harry could see he was hiding a small smile behind his scarf. “Let’s just get to this shop before I bloody freeze.”

They entered Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and were enveloped with warmth and the smell of sweets. Harry unraveled his scarf and took a deep breath. It smelled a little like the burrow. 

There were paper airplanes spelled to fly around with sprites riding them. Puffs of different coloured smoke came from all areas of the shop where small dragons were roasted rainbow popcorn. Harry could see George entertaining a group of young kids near the back. He looked energetic and comfortable, which was good. Last time Harry had seen him, he had been resigned and lethargic; Harry hoped George was healing.

“God, this place is a nightmare,” Malfoy said under his breath. 

“This place is amazing.” Harry dropped his scarf into Malfoy’s hands. “Hold this. And don’t be pissy, we’ll go to your boring shops later.”

Malfoy, disgruntled with holding Harry’s scarf, said nothing. However, he scowled so deeply Harry thought people would see right through his disguise. 

Harry didn’t intend to buy anything specific, he just wanted to walk around and be amazed at all the creations. There were gumballs that would glue people’s mouths shut, candies that made your hair change colour, paper that could only have truths written on it. Harry snagged some of the paper simply because he thought it was amazing. 

After nearly half an hour, Malfoy cleared his throat and then nudged Harry.

“I’m developing a headache,” Malfoy whined in his ear. “And you’re wasting all our time browsing.”

“Shame,” Harry said, though he did start heading towards checkout. 

A witch with bright blue hair was at the counter. She greeted them cheerfully. “Alright there lads? You find everything you need?”

“I don’t know how you could find anything in this place,” Malfoy said.

Harry elbowed Malfoy. “He means it’s very interesting and unique. Just this Tell No Lie paper today.”

“That’ll be five sickles,” The witch said. 

Harry handed over the change and without thinking said, “Thanks, tell George I say hello.”

The Witch stared at him curiously. “I’ll pass that along.”

Once they were outside, Malfoy shoved Harry’s scarf at him. “You’re a moron. You’re not you, remember? A random wizard just told that woman to say hi to Weasley for him.”

Harry laughed. “Oh yeah, I forgot for a moment. It’s a bit funny though if you think about it.”

“It’s not! You’ll blow our cover,” Malfoy said, exasperated

Harry stared at him, and tossed his head back laughing. He threw his arm around Malfoy’s shoulders, which Malfoy unsuccessfully tried to shake off. “Loosen up, nobody will find out. Just enjoy yourself for once.”

They wandered from shop to shop. Malfoy had a list of supplies he needed to get, and soon harry was carrying bags of books, quills and potion ingredients. He didn’t know how Malfoy needed all this, but Harry found he didn’t really care - he was enjoying himself too much. 

With an hour left of the potion, they decided to get butterbeer before heading back. They found a quiet table in the back of the Three Broomsticks, and set down their drinks and bags. 

“Blimey,” Harry said. “I think I pulled a muscle carrying your shit.”

“If only I cared,” Malfoy replied with a smile. He drank from his glass. “Anyway, I told you I had a lot to buy.”

They took off their coats and sat down. Harry asked, “What do you need all this stuff for anyway?”

“Mm, none of your business.” Malfoy’s face was indifferent and told Harry nothing. 

“Fine then,” Harry sighed as he stretched his arms. “Keep your weird secrets. It’s probably something boring, anyway.”

“Probably.” 

They sat in silence for awhile, drinking their butterbeer and enjoying the last bit of their freedom. Harry felt better than he had in a long time, and even though he knew the potion would wear off, he hoped the mood wouldn’t.

A couple, two men, tripped through the door giggling and hanging off each other. They kissed messily before heading to the counter for drinks. Malfoy scoffed at them, and for a moment Harry’s stomach dropped.

“What’s that for?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I just could never understand how people do that.”

Harry bristled. “What, be gay? It’s not a choice.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I’m not so terrible of a human that I hate gay people. It’s the fact that they’re just… so public.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice though?” Harry countered. “To be able to kiss your partner without giving a damn what people thought.”

Malfoy hid behind his drink. “That goes against everything I was raised to believe. Besides, like you said before, I already buggered up my image on my own.”

“I never meant that,” Harry said apologetically. “If anything, you didn’t have a choice.”

“Whatever,” Malfoy drawled, as if he was bored of the conversation. “It doesn’t matter.”

Malfoy emptied his glass before standing. Harry followed suit and they soon were heading back to Hogwarts. The brisk wind distracted Harry from thinking or ruminating. He just focused on trudging through snow without getting the paper bags wet. 

They were halfway back to Hogwarts when Malfoy spoke again. “I suppose it would be nice not to be so lonely. To have a partner.”

Harry was surprised that Malfoy would say something like that to Harry. They had talked about some personal things, but this was so vulnerable for Malfoy. Especially as the potion wore off and he returned to his normal appearance. 

“I know what you mean,” Harry finally said. “Even though I have friends, I can’t help be feel lonely all the time.”

Malfoy nodded. “Feeling lonesome does not require one to be on their own. My mother told me that.”

Harry took a deep breath. “She’s right. But friends help, I suppose and Hogwarts. I was lonelier growing up than I am now.”

“Did you not live with family?”

Harry sighed. “I’ll tell you about it one day. But not today. I don’t want to ruin today.”

“Alright,” Malfoy said with a small smile. “Keep your weird secrets then.”

Harry couldn’t help but grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought of this chapter :) Your comments motivate me to keep writing this!! 
> 
> This was a very indulgent one, I considered posting something different but I thought you guys would enjoy it too.
> 
> On to some heavier stuff!!


	8. The Room of Requirements

Location: Seventh Floor, Left Corridor   
Date: December 1999

Draco's POV 

In the early hours of the morning, Draco stood on the seventh floor of Hogwarts, hands clasped behind his back, eyes closed. He wore black trousers and an emerald sweater, the most casual outfit he'd ever allow himself to be seen in. His hair was ruffled and curling at the ends as he hadn't spelled it straight yet. In his opinion, he looked a wreck but it didn't matter. Nobody would see him this morning. 

He took a deep breath and pulled a piece of parchment paper from his pocket. He flattened it out and read the words in his head. It was a spell meant to repair magical items, dating back as early as the 1300s. The Latin was a little tricky but he had studied the pronunciation and practiced on smaller items; he felt confident with this one. 

He cleared his throat and began reading. It was quite wordy and long, but he took his time enunciating each word carefully. He poured as much intention into the words as possible. When he finished, he stared at the familiar wall, holding his breath.

Then he closed his eyes. He thought about the Room of Requirements, the grand ornate walls, the vast high ceilings. He summoned it. He squeezed his eyes shut and desperately willed it to appear. 

'You are fixed.' He told the room in his head. 'I have fixed you. I have poured healing potions on these walls. I have read countless repairing spells. I have sat for hours summoning you. I have healed you. I have repaired you.' 

He opened his eyes. 

At first, he thought the wall remained unchanged. He couldn't help but huff and crumple the parchment in his hand. He almost turned to leave, but then he caught sight of a single change. 

In the center of the wall, just level with Draco's nose, was a single inscription. His heart pounded against his chest, for the first time since school had started, the room had given him proof that it still existed. 

Old cursive letters were signed onto the wall, radiating heat. The words read: I will burn until this sun dies. 

He inhaled sharply and ran his fingers across the words. They were hot, like scalding tea, but he did not move. This was progress. This was his first clue. 

\---

Harry's POV. 

Harry had to drag himself out of bed. If he hadn't promised to help Luna with an assignment at lunch, he wouldn't have gotten up at all, classes be damned. 

He was almost to the great hall when a hand grabbed his arm and began dragging him back. He tried to pull his arm away. “What the hell?”

“Something happened,” Malfoy said. He almost never spoke to Harry where a lot of people could see, which startled Harry. “You have to see this.”

Harry, limply allowing Malfoy to lead him shot a longing look at the great hall. “But… breakfast. Tea.”

“It can wait. This is far more important.”

There was no arguing with Malfoy’s assured tone of voice so Harry followed along, his stomach growling. They wound their way up spiralling stairs, weaving in between staring students, and by the time they reached the seventh corridor, Harry was out of breath. 

“Why in the bloody hell have you dragged me up a thousand flights of stairs,” Harry gasped as he leaned against the railing. 

Malfoy ignored him and pointed at the wall. “Potter, look.”

Harry looked and saw a wall. It might have been the wall that the room of requirements used to appear from, but at the current moment it was just plain stone. “It’s a wall. Brilliant. Let’s go have breakfast.”

Malfoy sighed in exasperation and grabbed Harry’s wrist, dragging him closer. “Look closer, moron.”

Harry adjusted his glasses and squinted at the wall. He had almost given up when he caught sight of charred letters. His eyebrows shot up. “I will burn until this sun dies. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Malfoy said excitedly. Harry had never seen him so animated. “But what I’ve been doing worked, I finally got the room to say something.”

“Hold on,” Harry said, rubbing his eyes. “What do you mean, what you’ve been doing?”

Malfoy gestured to the wall. “All the potions supplies, all the books I bought were for this. I’ve been trying to make the room appear. Healing potions, summoning spells, I’ve been doing it all year. Nothing ever happened until I tried this old latin spell, and suddenly this appears.” He ran his fingers over the carved letters as if he couldn’t believe they were real. 

Harry stared at Malfoy and saw him in a way he’d never seen him before. To spend countless nights reading spells, brewing healing potions… all for the room of requirements. It was tender and caring in an almost insane way. He was blown away.

“Why?” he asked. “All this, why did you do it?”

Malfoy looked at Harry, his hair rumpled but eyes bright. “Does there have to be a reason?”

“In this case, yeah, I think so. A normal bloke wouldn’t go through all the trouble. So why?” Harry couldn’t get a read on Malfoy.

Malfoy dropped his hand from the wall, and crossed his arms. “I don’t know. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I can’t if you don’t give me the chance.”

Malfoy appraised Harry before finally sighing. “I feel responsible for everything that happened. If I hadn’t dragged Crabbe and Goyle to the room, Crabbed wouldn’t have cast that spell and he’d still…” Malfoy’s jaw clenched and he closed his eyes. “I can’t make Crabbe come back. But I can try to make the room come back.” 

Harry, in a weird and abstract way, understood. Malfoy, desperate and wayward, was in need of something to do. Something to fill his sleepless nights, something to ease the guilt. It didn’t matter if Malfoy had never personally cared about the room of requirements, not like Harry had. It was something tangible and real that Malfoy could fix. Harry only wished he had thought to do it first. 

“Well,” Harry said finally. “I think the second thing we need to do is write Hermione a letter.”

Without any trace of malice or sarcasm, Malfoy nodded and said, “Yes. Granger would know more about this than us.” After a second his eyebrows furrowed. “You said second. What’s the first thing we need to do?”

Harry wrapped his arms around his stomach. “Breakfast, I’m wasting away and I’ll be no use to you dead.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and waved a hand dramatically at the stairs. “Fine. After you then, Oh Great Hungry One.”

As they descended down the stairs, Harry nudged Malfoy. “Hey, thanks for telling me.”

“Telling you what?”

“Everything, all of it.” Harry tucked his hands into his pockets and tried to ignore how his cheeks were red. He was never good at this type of thing with Ginny, and he didn’t think he’d get any better.

“Potter?”

“Hmm?”

“I thought we promised not to be nice to each other.”

Harry looked at Malfoy to see he was smiling ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I did want to write longer chapters but with school and things going on, it's easier to post shorter chapters more frequently. I hope you guys don't mind. 
> 
> Second, I had fun writing Draco's short perspective, even if I didn't intend to switch perspectives in this fic. Would you like to see more from Draco's perspective in the future?


	9. The Prefect's Bathroom

Location: Hogwarts Library   
Date: December 1999

Hermione had mailed back a response within a day, which Harry had eagerly read to Malfoy. She said that ‘this sun’ was clearly the fiendfyre, and they had to figure out a way to stop it. However, the counter spell stopped the fiendfyre by sending the fire back into the caster’s wand, which wouldn’t work in this case since Crabbe’s wand was likely ashes. It brought their exciting discovery to a halt, but not a complete stop. Although it was more so confirming what they already knew, this was still progress. 

Harry and Malfoy’s homework sessions quickly turned into studying the history of the room of requirements and fiendfyre. Tests and assignments became hurdles they had to jump over to do what they really wanted to. Since Malfoy wanted no part in studying fiendfyre (Harry didn’t blame him) Harry took that job while Malfoy figured out how to summon the room. He said that up until now, all his potions and spells had been focused on making the room appear, but he hadn’t been considering the fiendfyre. Now, they needed to make the room appear but somehow communicate that they were going to put the fire out - according to Hermione. 

After an hour of studying on Christmas eve, Harry closed his book and sat back. Since the counter spell wouldn’t work, the next best step was studying spells that put out fire in general, and hope they could adjust it so it would work on the fiendfyre. This was proving difficult since altering spells was incredibly tricky and very dangerous - if they made a mistake, the spell could completely backfire. 

“You know what we need?” Harry waited for Malfoy to look at him. 

Malfoy lifted his head and raised an eyebrow. Harry, to his surprise, had realized Malfoy looked incredibly good in muggle clothing. Today he was wearing beige dress pants and a black long sleeve shirt that contrasted nicely against his skin. It wasn’t an outfit he’d usually wear but since everyone was home for the holidays, it didn’t matter if they were in uniform or not. 

“We need a break,” Harry said. “We’ve been studying for weeks and we’re exhausted. We won’t find things if we can’t focus.”

Malfoy leaned back and shut his book (he marked his spot with a slip of paper, Harry noticed that Malfoy never dog-eared pages). He sat for a minute, his lips pursued as if he was deciding if he wanted to argue or not. In the end, he shrugged. “What do you suggest?”

Harry thought for a moment. Before he would always go for a ride on his broomstick, but after all his dreams of fire and clutching the broomstick with white knuckles, he didn’t think that was a good idea. He remembered Luna’s warming spell and the black lake. 

“Want to go for a swim?”

“Are you thick, it’s fucking freezing out,” Malfoy said vehemently. He always seemed colder than Harry, even on warmer days. Maybe it was because he was so thin. 

“I know a spell that will make the water warm. We used it before in the black lake.”

Malfoy scoffed. “I am not swimming in that lake water.” He said it so confidently that Harry found he had no arguments.

“Fine,” Harry said. He suddenly had an idea. “You know the prefects bathroom on the fifth floor?”

Malfoy nodded. “Of course, I was a prefect remember.”

“How could I forget,” Harry said jokingly. “Anyway, it has a huge bathtub now, bigger than this room. We could go for a swim there.” 

As Harry suggested this, he realized how intimate this was. Swimming out in the open lake was one thing, but swimming in a private bathtub was an entirely other thing. He didn’t waiver though. He had offered it, and if Malfoy said yes, they were going to do it. What did it matter anyway? They were both men, this didn’t have to be weird.

After some consideration, Malfoy sighed. “Alright, we should take a break. Anyway, I miss the bath soaps they used.”

“Brilliant, let’s go.” Harry’s confidence was fake and in reality, his stomach was doing flip flops. 

As they began packing their things, he realized he had to consider something he had been avoiding and that was how he felt for Malfoy. At first, he thought they were simply overcoming their immature rivalry and becoming civil. Then, they had slipped into a casual friendship where they got on fairly well and didn’t mind hanging out. Harry had slowly come to realize that he not only didn’t mind hanging out with Malfoy, but he actually enjoyed it and wanted to be with him as much as possible. This was when he subconsciously realized he possibly might like Malfoy as more than a friend. 

Subconsciously thinking something was one thing. Consciously thinking this as he walked down the hall beside Malfoy was surreal. He had to be honest with himself and say he did find Malfoy attractive, even when he was disguised as that muggle. It wasn’t entirely looks (although they played a part) it was getting to know Malfoy that intrigued Harry. It was going from seeing him as an enemy, to knowing why he made decisions and how he took his tea (lots of sugar and milk). It was understanding that he had grown up believing things were one way, and having to learn entirely on his own that they were different. It was understanding that Malfoy felt just as alone and isolated as Harry did, and that they could ease that loneliness by being together. 

“Come on then,” Malfoy said, pulling Harry from his thoughts. 

They were stood to the left of the statue of Boris the Bewildered and Malfoy gestured to an open door. Harry’s heart thumped a little out of time as he entered the bathroom. It was dimmer in here than the hallway, and immediately felt very… intimate. 

They dropped their bags by the door and walked over to the large bathtub. It had been changed a little during the rebuild, and now was larger with somehow more taps and soap options. Malfoy examined them for a moment, then waved his wand. Multiple taps turned on and the bathtub began filling. It seemed deeper now, and more daunting. But at least they would have room to spread out - Harry couldn’t imagine taking a bath with Malfoy in a normal tub. 

“This is a bit weird,” Malfoy suddenly said. It was a rare time where he showed any sort of hesitation.

Harry, unable to admit that this was weird, stripped his sweater off. The bath filled quickly with magic, so it was nearly full before he even had his socks off. A little to his left, Malfoy was also taking his clothes off, but Harry didn’t look. 

He left his boxer briefs on (he could always spell them dry) and slid quickly into the water. It was the perfect temperature and smelled of oranges. He realized Malfoy must wear similar cologne because it reminded Harry of him. 

He heard Malfoy slid into the water as well, and Harry quickly began swimming to the other side. He hoped he looked casual, as if doing laps or getting used to the water, but internally his heart was beating very quickly. This was a terrible, terrible idea. 

“God,” Malfoy said as he sank into the water. “I missed this so much. This was actually not a terrible idea, Potter.”

Harry disagreed but he didn’t say so. He swam to the opposite side of the tub and finally turned to face Malfoy. Malfoy had his eyes closed and head against the edge of the tub. His skin was so pale it almost blended in with all the white bubbles. Down his neck and chest were thin, wiry scars that disappeared into the bubbles. Harry’s heart sank as he realized what they were. He swam a little closer until they were about ten feet away. 

“Sorry for those,” Harry said quietly. 

Malfoy opened his eyes and looked down at his chest. For a moment, Harry remembered the last time they were in a bathroom together when the floor had been covered in blood. 

Malfoy shrugged, a carefully constructed indifference. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore, anyway.”

“I’m still sorry for it.”

Malfoy leveled Harry with a gaze. “Apologize again and I’ll drown you.”

Harry couldn’t manage a smile at the threat but he nodded, and swam to the edge of the bathtub. He was closer to Malfoy now, but still a decent amount of distance in between them. He tried very hard not to stare at Malfoy’s chest, not because of the scars but because he had a very nice chest. He was thin but still muscular from his quidditch days, and his clothes usually hid all this. 

Harry sank down until the water almost covered his nose and his glasses began to fog up from the heat. 

“If you’re going to try and drown yourself, I was only joking you know,” Malfoy called over.

Harry didn’t laugh but he did smile under the water. He took his glasses off and set them on the floor. Then he pulled himself under the water. The tub was much deeper than Harry remembered, at least twelve feet or so. He swam around, his eyes stinging a little from the soap, and pulled himself deeper under the water. 

Then, Malfoy was there too, a few feet away holding his breath. His hair floated around his head in a blonde puff and he looked a bit ethereal under the water. Light shone down from the stained glass windows, illuminating his grey eyes and pale scares. The dark mark was stark against his skin, but it didn’t bother Harry like it might’ve before. It was like his own scar - a part of him, but not all of him. 

Malfoy, ever the show off, did a somersault, and Harry realized Malfoy had a very nice back and arse. Harry, unthinkingly opened his mouth and accidentally inhaled some water.

He pushed off the bottom of the pool, and breached the water choking as he tried to breathe. He spat water out and reached for the edge of the pool, hauling himself out. He laid on the cool floor, trying to catch his breath. He was stupid, and so stupidly developing feelings for Malfoy. Or at least admitting to himself that Malfoy looked very nice.

“You’re an idiot,” Malfoy said. “I seriously think you’re prone to accidents.”

Harry Looked up to see Malfoy had folded his arms along the edge of the tub and rested his head on them. 

“Maybe Voldemort's ghost is trying to finish me off.” Harry laid back and stared at the ceiling so he wouldn’t stare at Malfoy. 

“That’s not funny,” Malfoy said quietly. 

Suddenly, Harry remembered their previous conversations. “Remember when I said to ask me later about what I meant by ‘coming back’?”

Harry sat up, and Malfoy nodded. Harry slid his legs into the water, and softly swished them back and forth.

“I died,” he said. He heard Malfoy’s sharp intake of breath. Harry was never good a tactfulness, but it didn’t really matter. There was no easy way to say he had died. “When I was in the forest, Voldmort did hit me with the killing curse.”

“That’s impossible.” Malfoy was staring very intently at Harry. 

Harry shook his head. “I was a horcrux. When I was a baby and the killing curse rebounded on Voldemort, a part of his soul latched onto me. It had to die in order to kill Voldemort, just like the other horcruxes.”

Harry took a deep breath. It seemed like Malfoy was barely breathing. 

“I died but I came back. Or maybe I was just in between dead and alive, I’m not sure. It’s not like this has happened before and I can ask people about it. But that’s what I meant by coming back.” Harry let out a shuddering breath and looked down at his feet. 

Malfoy processed this for awhile. Finally he said, “Well, I guess I can’t say I’m surprised. You always seemed to be prone to accidents but you have an acute ability for surviving them. What’s another killing curse.”

Harry looked at Malfoy who was forcing a smile. Harry relaxed and gave a shaky laugh. “They’re going to have to create a new killing curse. This one obviously doesn’t work.”

Malfoy snorted and shook his head. He then splashed Harry with water, which startled Harry so much he was speechless. 

“Did you just splash me?” 

Malfoy splashed him again and pushed away from the wall. “What are you going to do about it, boy who lived twice?”

Harry, stunned that Malfoy was being so different from his usually resigned self, didn’t quite know how to react. Then Malfoy splashed him for a third time, and Harry dropped into the water, sending a wave at the other boy. 

They continued to splash and dunk each other under the water until they grew tired. Harry finally called a truce, and Malfoy rolled his eyes, bumping his shoulder into Harry’s chest. Harry swam to the edge of the pool and pulled himself up onto the edge. He held himself up on his arms and stretched his back, before climbing out. When he turned, he saw Malfoy quickly look away and climb out of the tub. 

“They could at least make the floors heated,” Harry said as he dried himself off with a spell. “It’s bloody freezing.”

“Well, they don’t want to make it too appealing.” Malfoy dried himself off and began pulling his clothes on. Harry didn’t not look, much. “Or else students will come here to shag.”

“Blimey,” Harry said. “Did you shag anyone in here?”

Malfoy seemed to choke a little. Harry looked up and saw that Malfoy was blushing.

“Merlin, you did, didn’t you.” 

Malfoy pulled on his shirt. “Firstly, I didn’t shag someone on a dirty, bathroom floor, that’s disgusting.”

“But you did shag someone?” Harry, now fully dressed, stared at Malfoy expectantly. 

Malfoy ran a hand through his spell-dried fluffy hair. “Perhaps.”

“Who? Was it Parkinson?” Harry couldn’t believe Malfoy would abuse his privileges as prefect for something like shagging.

“God no, she’s like a sister,” Malfoy said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Who was it then?”

Malfoy stared at Harry and sighed. “Theodore Nott.”

Harry stared at Malfoy like he’d never seen him before. He couldn’t help the shocked reaction, it was just… so unexpected. “Wow.” Harry didn’t know what else to say.

“If you tell anyone -” Draco started.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t do that.” 

“Good.” Malfoy crossed his arms. “It was a long time ago, we were young and reckless.”

Harry picked up his bag just for something to do. He was still processing the fact that Malfoy liked boys or had liked boys. His mind was reeling. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Malfoy growing up in a strict household with this secret. Probably worse than it had been for Harry.

“So, are you saying it was a mistake?” Harry knew a lot of boys messed around with other boys, but not a lot of them take it seriously. 

“No,” Malfoy said, quiet but sure of himself. “Theo was an alright bloke, and I did like him.”

“So you like blokes?” Harry held his breath, but he wasn’t sure why. 

Malfoy picked up his bag, and fiddled with the strap. He wouldn’t make eye contact with Harry. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Hearing the words didn’t make it any less surreal. But Harry took a deep breath, and patted Malfoy on the shoulder. When Malfoy looked up, he gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Me too. This doesn’t have to be a big deal and it doesn’t change anything. I won’t mention it again if you don’t want me to.” Harry tried his best to sound like Hermione had when he came out to her. 

“You too?” Malfoy asked, furrowing his brows. 

Harry nodded, and for a brief moment he wondered if he should have shared something so personal with Malfoy. 

Then Malfoy let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Alright.”

“Alright,” Harry repeated. Malfoy had changed and he trusted him with this. Even if they wouldn’t bring it up again, they still knew, and that meant… something. Harry laughed a little. "It's too weird being this serious."

"I know," Malfoy said as they left the prefect's bathroom. "Want to have a duel or yell at each other? Try to make it feel more normal?"

Harry laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, I think, the longest chapter at nearly 3k words. It's unedited and a little messy but so is this whole fic - this is just a fun thing for me to write and I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. 
> 
> I know things are moving slow, but I really don't think they'd jump right into things. This chapter was a big step for them, and Harry had a lot of revelations. 
> 
> Perhaps a Draco chapter next to reveal whats on his mind.


	10. Drunk Conversations

Location: Slytherin Common Room.  
Date: Christmas 1999

Draco's POV

Draco had the whole common room to himself, which was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, he could walk around in his comfortable pajamas and eat cheese and crackers without anyone bothering him. On the other, Pansy wasn’t here to talk to him about Potter and there was a lot to talk about. 

It was a growing issue Draco would have to face at some point, but that would not be today or any time soon. He had to admit, though, it was interesting how Potter had reacted to Draco saying he liked men; even more interesting was Potter also liking men. It had surprised Draco because he would have never pegged Potter for being queer - he had only ever had girlfriends and he never paid men any attention. Maybe Potter hadn’t even realized he liked men until recently. Draco wanted to ask him a million questions, but he didn’t feel like they were close enough for that kind of conversation. 

He barely felt like they were close enough for the information Potter had dropped on him last night. Of course Potter had survived the killing curse twice, why not? He had evaded dragons and death eaters and trolls, what’s a little killing curse? Draco wasn’t bitter though. He simply couldn’t believe one single moron could survive all that and come out with a single scar. Well, a growing scar - it now cut one of Potter’s eyebrows in half, but Potter seemed to ignore it. 

However, it meant that he was growing his stupid hair out even longer. Draco didn’t know how Potter could look so good when he was a mess half the time. He almost never brushed his hair, he barely shaved and he always wore his uniform wrinkled. It wasn’t fair, honestly. Draco had to work hard to maintain his looks - shaving every other day, moisturizing and putting cream in his hair every night. It was a tedious routine, but he wouldn’t give it up now. If Draco walked out of the dorms looking as bedraggled as Potter did… he shuddered at the thought. 

A knock on the common room door surprised him. Anyone who needed to be in here would have the password. Draco looked down at the cracker crumbs on his pajama shirt. He was not expecting company, which was why he had sprawled on the couch for a healthy dose of ruminating about Potter. He didn’t like having his plans interrupted. 

The knock came again, louder and more persistent. 

He stood up and brushed crumbs off his shirt. There wasn’t much he could do about his hair - he had let it air dry which meant it was curly and frizzy. He pursed his lips and walked over to the door, opening it. 

Harry Potter stood on the other side, out of breath. He looked a little sweaty as if he’d run here, but it wasn’t a bad look on him. Before Draco could really get a good look at him, he pushed past Malfoy and walked over to the coffee table.

“Come right in,” Draco drawled. “Make yourself at home.”

“I found it,” Potter said. He gestured with his hand and a glass of pumpkin juice appeared. He chugged it, a bit dribbling out the corner of his mouth. 

Draco had to admit, it was quite hot when Potter used wandless magic without a second thought. It was a feat Draco had not mastered, and very few could do. But, yet again, it didn’t surprise him that Potter did it without thinking. 

“Found what?” Draco crossed his arms, and perched on the arm of a big chair. 

Potter laid a book out on the coffee table and began flipping through the pages. He finally found the page he was looking for and pointed at a line.

“It’s the spell, I finally found it,” Potter said excitedly. “Listen to this, it says it diffuses and stops the spread of any magical fires, or explosions. I found it in a book Hermione sent me for Christmas. It’s a bloody old spell, I don’t even know how to pronounce it, but I think this could work.”

Potter stared expectantly at Draco. It could work, possibly, if they did it right. And Draco had also found out some information of his own. “How will you communicate this to the room? It won’t appear unless it knows we’re going to put out the fiendfyre.”

Potter frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know, but this is a huge step. Come on, aren’t you even a little excited?”

Draco waved his hand. “I suppose it is exciting. I also found some useful information-”

“What is it?” Potter cut Draco off. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Allow me to finish my sentences and I’ll tell you.”

Potter rolled his eyes and waved his hand as if to say, yes go on, I’m listening.

Draco stood and walked over to the pile of books he had next to the couch. He took his time looking for the right one, hoping his slowness would annoy Potter. When he finally pulled the right book out and set it on the coffee table, Potter was nearly bouncing in his seat. 

“I found a spell that would allow us to carve words into the wall.” Draco pointed to the spell on the page and Potter leaned closer to read it. “Since the room contacted us by burning letters into the wall, I figured we’d have to do something similar. It will have to be done very carefully - the caster is controlling a small stream of fire from their wand. If they lose concentration, it could spread very quickly.”

Potter brushed his bangs out of the way as he read. “We are literally playing with fire,” he muttered. He brushed his thumb against his lower lip which Draco found very intriguing. 

They were both kneeling at the coffee table and Potter’s entire side was pressed against Draco. He didn’t think Potter was aware, he was too excited and distracted by the book to notice he was leaning into Draco. He did this often. Rest his hand on Draco’s arm, lean against him or elbow him to get his attention. Draco allowed it for the most part, simply because he didn’t think Potter realized how much he relied on physical contact. And, Draco had to be honest with himself, it was quite nice to not have someone completely terrified of him.

“This could work,” Potter said quietly. He bumped his shoulder against Draco. “We might actually be able to do this. We could do it tonight. ”

Draco was in awe at how eager Potter was to do such a dangerous thing. It was probably the Gryffindor in him, unwilling to wait any longer. “Not tonight. We’d have to tell McGonagall and the other professors in case something went wrong. It’s too risky to do without someone knowing.”

“Since when do you care about rules and safety?” Harry’s tone was joking, but Draco stood and clasped his hands behind his back. 

“Since my father went to prison and I was put on house arrest for six months. If this were to go wrong and nobody knew what we were doing, they’d think I was trying to burn the castle down.” Draco said these words very carefully, his tone disinterested in a practiced way. 

“Right,” Potter said, leaning back to sit against the couch. “I didn’t think of that.”

“It’s fine,” Draco said. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a Malfoy.” Before, Draco may have said this in a snotty, superior tone. Now he said it with a resigned and tired voice. There was nothing to envy about his family history. 

“I don’t,” Potter agreed. “But I’d be willing to listen if you wanted to tell me.”

Draco looked at Potter, curious as to why he was offering this. “Are you trying to be nice to me?”

“I suppose I am.” Potter had an arm slung over his knee and was smiling at the ceiling. 

Draco’s lip twitched up. “I thought we promised not to be nice to each other.”

“I thought we broke that rule a long time ago.”

Draco nodded. They had indeed. “Well, since we’re being nice to each other, I might as well share my stash of fire-whiskey. We did make great discoveries. It’d be a shame not to celebrate them.”

Potter grinned. “Yes, Malfoy.”

Malfoy retrieved the bottle from his room, and charmed two glasses from the cabinet against the wall - the Slytherins may drink a lot of shit alcohol, but they only drank out of crystal glasses. He set them down on the coffee table and poured them both a shot. 

“Cheers,” Potter said as he threw his shot back. 

\----

They were shitfaced. At least Draco was, he didn’t know about Potter. Draco was currently sitting up against the couch, trying to hold his head up. Potter had laid on the couch with his feet going over an the armrest, his head near Draco’s. 

“Honestly,” Potter said, slurring a bit. “Ginny’s great, I jus' think we weren’t connecting, you know? Same with Chang. She was a terrible kisser.”

“Mmm.” Draco slid down the floor a little. Potter had been talking for so long, Draco could barely keep up with the conversation. 

“And, and--” Potter burped, loudly. “There were just no blokes around, you know? Well, I guess Seamus and Dean are gay but, like, together.”

“Finnigan and Thomas?” Draco was interested in Gryffindor gossip. He tried to sit up, but slipped a little, and settled for turning to face Potter. 

“Yeah!” Potter rolled onto his side, his legs still hanging over the edge of the couch. “I couldn’t believe it.” Potter’s eyes were drooping and he didn’t have his glasses on. Draco suddenly remembered they were on his head. 

“Why do I have your- your ugly spectacles?” Draco pulled them off the top of his head and perched them on his nose. His vision was blurred and he looked at Potter.

“They’re not ugly, you’re jus' jealous.” Potter reached for the glasses but missed and ended up cupping Draco’s cheek. “Whoa, your skin is, like, soft.”

“I moisturize.” Draco felt himself leaning into Potter’s hand which was calloused from quidditch. “You should try it sometime.”

Potter moved his hand and waved it limply in the air. “Too much work.”

Draco took the glasses off and set them on the table. He turned to look at Potter who was now staring at the ceiling. He was incredibly attractive without his glasses on. His eyes were brighter and Draco could see his eyelashes better. The scar cutting through his eye brow made him look badass in a weird way. Draco couldn't believe he was even thinking that.

“Your scar,” Draco said as he reached to touch it. His arm was too heavy though and it fell on Potter’s shoulder. “Is so cool.”

“God, I hate it.” Potter reached his hand up to brush it. “It’s so ugly and big and, and… ugly.”

“No,” Draco said determinedly. He sat up, and leaned over Potter’s head. “It looks great. Can I touch it?”

Potter gestured to his face and shrugged. Draco couldn’t believe he had asked that and gotten permission. He ran his fingers over the scar and down Potter’s brow. Potter closed his eyes and tilted his head towards Draco. 

“Feels’ good,” Potter mumbled. 

“Why do I always call you Potter?” Draco blurted as he dragged his hand down Potter’s cheek. “Even in my head I do it.”

Potter’s eyes opened. “I do that too!”

“Call yourself Potter?”

“No, I call you Malfoy even in my head. I guess I always have.” Potter didn’t seem to mind that Draco was dragging his finger over Potter’s stubble, so he kept doing it. 

“Harry,” Draco tried out. “It sounds weird, I don’t think I’ve ever called you that before.”

“Draco,” Harry said. “Draco. Malfoy. Draco.”

“It sounds cool when you say it,” Draco said without thinking.

“Say Harry again.”

“Harry.”

“It just sounds like you’re calling me hairy. Like,” -- Harry ruffled his own hair -- “hairy.”

“What about James,” Draco suggested. He ran his hand through Harry’s hair which was surprisingly soft and luscious. Draco did it again and Harry closed his eyes, leaning into it. Hairy Harry. 

“James sounds better. That’s my dad’s name too.” Harry sounded a bit sad, but not in a bad way. 

“My middle name is Lucius.” Draco kept running his hand through Harry’s hair. “I hate it. I hate him.” He hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry leaned his head to stare at Draco. His eyes were very sad. “You’re not him though.”

“I know I’m not him.” Draco’s hand stilled on Harry’s head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll never see him again.”

“I’ll never see my dad again either.” Harry sighed, stretching his arms above his head. “I saw him that night though. When I was in the forest.”

“Your father? How?” Draco’s hand was tired so he folded his arms on the couch and rested his head on them. The couch was a soft green velvet and very comfortable. 

“Resurrection stone.” It took Harry a few tries to make it through the word. “I saw my mum too. And Lupin and Sirius.”

Draco felt sad, for Harry’s grief that was almost palpable, and for himself as well. Draco had never had that many people love or care about him. “You’re lucky and unlucky.”

Harry blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“People just seem to love you.” Draco closed his eyes because they felt heavy. “But they also seem to die, too.”

Harry was quiet for awhile. Then, very quietly, he asked, “Do you love me?”

Draco thought that was a heavy word to be throwing around when only months ago they hated each other. “No…” He meant to stop talking but his drunken mouth didn’t agree. “I might be able to though.” 

“Hmm,” Harry said. He shifted so he was laying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows. “You probably shouldn’t. Like you said, people tend to die.”

Draco, somehow in his fuzzy mind, took this as a challenge. “I won’t die. I’ve been close to dying a lot, but I haven’t. So I decided I won’t.”

Harry smiled sloppily. “Good. You can join the no dying club. Current members, Draco and Harry.”

“Good.” Draco liked that they were the only ones in this club. “I’m exhausted and I have to piss. Are you able to make it back to your common room?”

Harry slowly stood, and swayed a little. He smiled as he sat back down on the couch. “Fuck no, there’s no way I’ll make it up those bloody stairs.”

Draco thought as much. His own head was spinning and time felt very slow. He knew Harry had drank a lot too, so he must be equally drunk, if not more. “You can sleep here. Nobody’s gonna be back for days.”

Harry nodded and laid down on the couch. 

“Not the couch, moron, I meant the beds.” Draco stood shakily and pulled on Harry’s arm. 

“Oh,” Harry said as Draco pulled him upright. They stood facing each other and Harry swayed a little. “Whoa, I think I need to piss too.”

Draco was glad Harry moved because if he hadn’t, Draco would have kept staring at his green eyes all night. 

Harry went to the bathroom first and Draco heard awful retching noises. He was too tired to go help, but he decided if Harry wasn’t out of there within ten minutes, he would check on him. 

Draco spent a long time staring at the clock, which seemed to tick by slowly. Finally Harry stumbled out a few minutes later, looking pale. “I just vomited.”

“I heard.” It had felt like hours, but the clock said it had only been ten minutes. 

“You didn’t come hold my hair back?”

Draco walked passed him and patted his shoulder. “I’m sure you managed. The beds are in there.” He gestured towards the stairs that led up to the dorm rooms.

“Prick.” 

Draco pissed and washed his hands and face. He tried to put lotion on but was struggling to open to cap so he decided to skip his routine and do it in the morning when he was drunk. 

When he went into the dorm room (the stairs were a nightmare to climb) he found Harry sleeping in his bed. He didn’t know how Harry knew which bed was his, but he was already passed out and curled up on his side. 

He could sleep in Blaise’s old bed, but he liked his mattress and pillows and blankets. They were comforting, especially when he was drunk. He decided, sluggishly, he would simply kicked Potter out if he turned out to be a terrible sleeping partner. 

He changed into fresh pajamas and pulled a hangover potion from his drawer - he always took these before he went to sleep drunk, or else he’d wake up with a terrible migraine. 

He crawled into bed, acutely aware of how much space Potter took up, and shuffled around until he was comfortable. 

"Draco?" Harry said quietly.

"Mm?"

"Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is even longer than the last one. I know a lot of people write Drarry drunkenly kissing, but I wanted them to kiss when they were both sober - I didn't spend 15000 words building up to their first kiss for them not to remember it. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of Draco's chapter!!


	11. The Morning After

Harry woke up with a blinding headache and his legs were far too warm. He tried to kick his blankets off, but his foot connected with something solid. 

Harry peeled his eyes open and immediately saw green curtains. He blinked again and tried to orient himself; there was nothing green in the gryffindor common room, only red and gold. He painstakingly rolled over and came face to face with a head of blond hair. He smelled oranges, a scent he had begun to associate with Draco.

His brain slowly began to process things and he remembered he had come to the slytherin common room to show Draco what he had found. After that, he remembered firewhiskey and staring at the ceiling. He vaguely remembered vomiting, but tried not to think too hard about it. 

Draco rolled over and blinked at the ceiling. Before he could see, Harry closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He felt Draco shift around and almost jumped when fingers brushed along his bangs and forehead. Harry didn’t breathe. His heart beat so hard against his chest he thought Draco could hear. 

Harry felt the bed shift as Draco rolled off the bed. 

“Harry,” Draco said.

Harry pretended to be asleep 

“Potter.” 

Harry opened his eyes. Everything was a little blurry since he wasn’t wearing his glasses - he wondered where his glasses were - but he saw Draco stretching beside the bed. Draco’s cheeks were flushed and he looked softer than Harry had ever seen him. 

“It’s nearly noon,” Draco said. He stood awkwardly next to the bed. 

Harry sat up very slowly, and pressed a hand over his mouth. He didn't think he would actually throw up but it felt like that was a possibility.

"Here," Draco said, reaching into his nightstand. He passed Harry a small vial. "It'll help with the nausea and headache."

"Did you make this?" Harry's throat was dry. 

"I did."

Harry stared at it, and for a moment he wondered if it really was hangover potion. Then he realized it was foolish to think Draco would lie about what he was giving him. Especially since it was in Draco's best interest that Harry not vomit. 

"It's not poison." Draco sounded amused. "Honestly, it's like you don't even trust me." 

"I trust you," Harry said genuinely. He downed the potion and found it tasted citrusy. "I wouldn't have gotten drunk with you if I didn't. I tend to spill my secrets when I'm drunk." 

Draco hummed and crossed his arms. 

Harry stared at him. "I didn't say anything dreadful did I? Or embarrassing? Merlin, I did, didn't I?"

Draco waved a hand. "Even if you did, I don't recall specifics of last night." 

Harry believed this for a moment, but then he saw an empty vial on Draco's nightstand, identical to the one Harry held. If Draco had taken a hangover potion last night, his memories would have been far better than Harry's. Now Harry was sure he'd said something mortifying, and Draco was trying to spare him. 

"Right, well, I've got to shower and get cleaned up." Harry's headache was easing but he still felt gross. "I think we should talk to McGonagall today. If we're going to try something risky we should do it while most students are gone." 

Draco nodded and went to the ornate chest at the end of his bed. He began collecting shower items. "I'll see you after lunch then." 

"Right." Harry couldn't help but feel like he was being dismissed. Maybe Draco felt more uncomfortable about sleeping in the same bed than Harry did. Harry didn't really care, he'd shared enough beds with Ron for it not to bother him. "I'll be going then." 

Draco nodded before heading to the bathrooms. 

Harry stood up and wanted to say something but couldn't think of anything. He found his glasses on Draco's nightstand and put them on. Then he very quietly made his way to the gryffindor common room. 

God, he shouldn't have gotten so drunk. It was driving him insane not knowing what he'd said to Draco - even worse was that Draco seemed to remember more than Harry. Harry tried hard to piece together conversations, but the details were fuzzy. 

The more he thought about it, he remembered laying on the couch with Draco's head near his. He remembered talking a little about his dad. For some strange reason he remembered asking Draco about love, but he couldn't remember the context. 

This was especially distressing. He wondered if he had drunkenly confessed his feelings to Draco. Surely Draco would have said something, but maybe he was pretending it didn't happen. Harry scrubbed his hands over his head and huffed. He was an idiot. 

It didn't take long for Harry to shower and dress. The common room was quiet and peaceful, but with nothing to distract him, he couldn't help but go over questions in his head. What if he had said something that made Draco not want to talk to him? What if he had spent months building Draco's trust only to ruin it in one night? And why had Draco brushed his fingers along Harry's forehead when he thought Harry was sleeping? He was giving himself another headache. 

He decided, as he sat on the couch, he might close his eyes for a few moments before getting lunch. He was still exhausted, and he didn’t think he had slept that much. Before he knew it, he was sideways and drifting back to sleep. 

A knock at the common room door pulled him from his nap. He woke up slowly, and checked the clock above the fireplace - it had only been about an hour. He got up to open the dor and found Professor McGonagall and Draco. 

“Mind if we come in?” McGongall asked, in a way that told Harry they were coming in rather than asked him. 

“Course, sure,” he said as he backed up. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stifled a yawn.

They walked through the portrait door and Harry noted how Draco examined the common room - it was probably the first time he was seeing it. Harry tried to remember the first time he had seen the common room; he had been overwhelmed at how comfortable and warm he felt. It was the first place that had ever felt at home. 

“Mr. Malfoy has brought your situation to my attention,” McGongall said as she sat gracefully on a chair. Although it was just a frumpy, old armchair, she sat on it like it was a throne. “He’s relayed all the pertinent information to me, including the risks.”

Harry was suddenly feeling very awake. He was sort of grateful Draco had done this as he was always more well spoken than Harry. It was a dangerous plan, but Harry was confident Draco would have spun it to sound reasonable.

“So, what do you think?” Harry asked.

She stared at Draco and Harry standing in front of her. “I understand your motive and the importance of the room of requirements. However, I cannot ignore the danger this would put students in. We need to do more research.”

“But this might be our best opportunity,” Harry said. “There’s barely anyone here, it would be safer to do it now rather than later.”

McGongall pursed her lips. “I don’t think you understand, Mr. Potter. If one student is at risk, yourself and Mr. Malfoy included, I cannot allow you to try this. It would be irresponsible of me. So unless you can guarantee the safety of everyone involved, I have to say no.”

Draco, who up to this point had been thoughtfully silent, stepped forward. “But what if we could guarantee the safety of other students? What if we could promise you that if the worst case scenario happened, it would be contained?”

“What do you suggest?” McGongall asked. 

“Wards,” Draco said simply. “I know a spell that can hold up against fiendfyre. It won’t make it disappear, but if the fiendfyre escapes the room, the wards can stop it. Then, we can eliminate the fiendfyre.”

“How do you know these wards work?” Harry asked.

“Because I’ve had to use them before.” Draco crossed his arms and his face settled into bored indifference. “I didn’t have the most polite houseguests last year.” That was all he said. 

McGongall nodded. “Let’s say we warded off the whole corridor. What protects you and Mr. Potter?”

Harry looked at Draco. “I’m willing to take the risk if you are?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have spent hours reading boring, ancient texts only to back out when we finally made some progress.”

Harry looked at McGonagall. “So it’s settled then.”

McGonagall held up her hand. “Mr. Potter, I still haven’t agreed to this. Even if the wards work, even if you and Mr. Malfoy know the risks, I’m not sure I can allow you to do this. This has the potential to go extremely wrong.”

“But isn’t it worth it? We could save the room of requirements for future students to use. It has history, Professor, isn’t that worth saving?” Harry desperately need her to understand what he was thinking. They had not come this far only to back away from a few risks. 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Honestly, does your saviour complex ever bore you?”

“Sod off,” Harry said, but not unkindly. Then to McGonagall he said, “Sorry, professor.”

She fiddled with her hands and then sighed, very quietly. “Give me until tomorrow to think about it and converse with the other Professors. Students won’t be returning until the new year, so we still have time. Is that fair, Mr. Potter?”

Harry thought that was fair but not what he really wanted. If she thought about it more, she may come to the conclusion it’s not worth it and then tell them to throw out all their hard work. He was working up the voice to say something, when Draco cut him off. 

“Completely fair, Professor. You let us know when you’ve made a decision.” Draco smiled in a convincing way. Harry, despite being a little blinded by this smile, was a little annoyed Draco was siding with McGonagall. 

“Very well, I’ll leave you two then.” She stood and straightened out her robes. “I have to say, though, I was surprised to hear you two have an… amicable friendship after all those years of fighting. Can I ask what changed?”

Harry and Draco looked at each other. Harry said, “Honestly, professor, if I knew I would tell you. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

She nodded with a small smile. “Well, I’m glad to hear that you two are getting on. It sets a good example.”

She left through the portrait door and Draco sighed. He sat down on the couch in front of the fireplace. “And now we wait.”

“I don’t know if you know this,” Harry said as he sat down beside Draco. “But I’m shit at waiting.”  
“I figured, considering you were ready to try this last night before we had even thought it through,” Draco replied. He leaned against the armrest, and therefore farther away from Harry. 

“Well,” Harry said, drumming his fingers against his leg. “I can’t just sit here and stare at the fireplace. I’m going for a walk, are you coming?”

Draco shook his head. “I think I’m going to rest. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Sorry, probably my fault.” Harry stood awkwardly. “By the way, are you… sure I didn’t say anything? Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but…” He trailed off staring at his shoes. 

Draco shifted on the couch. “Like I said, I don’t recall a lot.” For some reason, Harry was almost certain he was lying. Maybe it was the way Draco wouldn’t make eye contact and kept fidgeting with his hands.“But from what I do remember it was a completely uninteresting conversation.”

“Alright.” Harry swung his arms in front of him, unsure what to do. “Well, I’ll be going then. You can let yourself out.”

Draco waved a hand dismissively. “Have a nice walk.”

Harry left feeling unsure about where they stood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting in nearly a week. Busy and a lot going on in my life. Here's a shorter chapter with more of Harry's internal monologue. 
> 
> I'm going to try and wrap up this fic soon - I never thought it would be this long (thought I'm not complaining) and I don't want it to become boring for readers. I'm very invested in it and I love writing it but I feel like we're coming close to the end.
> 
> Anyway, hope you all enjoy this little update. I'm writing the next chapter as I post this one.


	12. As You Wish

Harry felt like he had a firecracker in his heart. McGonagall had agreed after consulting the other professors, and they were finally going through with it. She had agreed on the condition that they do extensive set up, which honestly Harry thought might have been overkill but he understood. They had just spent over a year building Hogwarts back up, they didn’t want to burn it back down. He still felt antsy as her, Flitwick and other professors warded the corridor off. 

He and Draco stood in front of the wall where they had summoned the room of requirements so long ago. Although it had only been a day, they hadn’t talked and that was unusual. When Harry had returned from his walk yesterday, the common room had been disappointingly empty. He hadn’t heard from Draco until this morning when he let him know McGonagall had made up her mind. 

Now they stood side by side, both deep in their thoughts. Draco reviewing a piece of parchment paper with the spells they were going to use, and Harry tapping his wand against his thigh. They had decided the professors would handle the wards, Draco would use the spell to burn words into the wall and communicate with the room of requirements, and Harry would stop the fiendfyre. They didn’t know if this would work, there was no way for them to test it but they had to try. 

Harry stared at the words that the room had magically burned into the wall: I will burn until this sun dies. Words Harry and Draco had recited over and over to each other. Although there was no way for them to be sure that ‘this sun’ was referring to the fiendfyre, Harry trusted Hermione. He had learned to trust Draco, too, and as long as Harry could manage his part of the, he knew Draco would do his part. 

“Are you ready?” Draco asked quietly. His arms were crossed and he drummed his slender fingers against his bicep. Harry had come to realize Draco had very nice biceps.

“Course,” Harry said, a little too quickly. “I feel like we can do this.”

“I bloody well hope so. Just be ready with that spell. As soon as I summon the room, you’ll have to start casting. We don’t know if the doors will be opened or closed.” 

Draco looked around as they felt the heavy magical blanket of wards settle above them. Harry couldn’t help but remember the night of the battle when everyone had tried to shield the castle under wards. It was different because there was no immediate threat right now, but the stifling, claustrophobic feeling was the same. 

“It feels like… that night.” Harry rubbed his arm and resisted the urge to touch his scar. Sometimes he thought it stung with pain, but Hermione had explained the concept of phantom pains. It didn’t hurt right now, but his mind remembered how it had hurt for all those years.

“You alright?” Draco asked and nudged Harry’s arm with his elbow. 

Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Yes.” He took a deep breath. “Maybe.”

“Do you trust me?”

Harry nodded. He did trust Draco. 

Draco nodded too. “Then we have nothing to worry about.” He said this so confidently and easily, but Harry could feel that Draco was reassuring himself too. 

“Do you trust me?” Harry asked. He tried to sound more lighthearted. “I mean, I am the only thing standing between you and potential death.”

“Of course I trust you,” Draco replied genuinely. “You may be the most powerful wizard alive right now. Maybe not the smartest…” Harry elbowed him lightly. “But I trust you with this.”

“Good, brilliant.” Harry bounced on the balls of his feet He tried not to let the compliment go to his head, but Draco so rarely complimented him. It warmed his heart in a funny way that was unfamiliar. It didn’t feel anything like when Ginny would call him handsome or strong. It felt more real. 

“Boys,” McGonagall called to them. 

Harry looked to his right and she stood ten feet away, on the edge of the innermost ward. 

“I will ask you one last time if you’re sure you want to go through with this.”

Harry looked at Draco and they both nodded.

McGonagall sighed. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t want to back out now. We’ve just finished with the last wards. We will close them off and head to the great hall. I’ll send my patronus to let you know when everyone is safely out of range. If anything goes wrong, send a patronus. We will evacuate and send back up.”

“Okay,” Draco said as he stared at the wall. 

“I will see you boys later.” McGonagall spoke like she was trying to will this into their future. 

“See you later, Professor.” Harry smiled at her. 

She turned and descended down the stairs. Harry could feel the wards closing behind her and blocking them from the rest of the castle. 

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Draco pulled his wand from his sleeve, then pushed his sleeves up past his elbow. Harry saw the dark mark, but looked away before Malfoy could catch him staring. How they had changed in the past year. How different they were from the first time they had met. 

Harry’s heart beat hard in his chest. He repeated the spell in his head even though he had practiced saying it over a hundred times. 

Draco nudged his arm. “If we make it through this-”

Harry cut him off. “Don’t say that, I thought you were confident?” 

Draco half smiled. “I am confident. When we make it through this, I guess, I have something to tell you.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?” Harry’s heartbeat even faster with the possibility of what Draco had to say. 

Draco smiled at him and it blinded Harry. “Patience, Potter. It’s all about the timing.”

Harry huffed and looked away to hide his blush. “Or the dramatics.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow. “You should be used to it by now. I’m all about the dramatics.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

A silver-blue tabby walked up to them and sat in front of the wall. McGonagall’s voice came from the cat. “We are ready. Good-luck boys.”

Harry took a shaky breath and couldn’t hold back his grin. They were going to do this. 

“Ready?” Harry asked Draco. He reached out before he could stop himself, and caught the end of Draco’s rolled up sleeve. He dropped his hand before he could do something foolish like try to hold his hand. 

Draco’s eyes followed this movement then he met Harry’s eyes. “Let’s do this. Worse case scenario, you survive another near death experience and Theodore gets my inheritance.”

Harry frowned. “It will work.”

Draco hummed and turned to the wall. Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Draco began casting the spell, and Harry saw the tip of his wand light like a candle. Although they were a few steps away, Harry could feel the heat emanating from Draco. 

Draco raised his wand and began carving letters into the wall, right under the previous sentence. He carved the spell Harry would be using to end the fiendfyre, to let the room know they were prepared. Harry couldn’t help but stare as Draco meticulous traced small letters with his wand. Blond hair fell in front of his eyes but he didn’t flinch or brush it away. He was entirely focused on his task at hand and Harry was enthralled.

After a few minutes without breaking concentration, Draco ended the spell and lowered his wand. He wiped his bangs out of his face and glanced back at Harry. He opened his mouth to speak but they froze as they heard a deep rumbling. It shook the floor and ceiling, and it was coming from the wall. Harry instinctively grabbed Draco’s arm and pulled him away back from the wall.

“No,” Draco said, pulling against Harry. “That’s the room responding.”

“How do you know? It sounds like a load of thunder to me.” It was so loud now, Harry wanted to cover his ears. He let Draco pull him closer to the wall, even though every fiber of his being was telling him to leg it. 

“Trust me. I can summon it now. It feels different.” Draco’s eyes were wide, and he sounded breathless. “I can feel the room, I know I could summon it.”

Harry stared at Draco, and then at the wall. The rumbling had not stopped and it sounded like a herd of dragons were roaring beyond the wall. Even though they’d be walking straight into that, Harry knew they had to do it. They had not come this far to turn back. 

“Summon it then. I’m ready.” Harry didn’t let go of Draco’s arm, and stepped closer with him. He tightened his hand around his wand. 

Draco stood, almost leaning against Harry, and closed his eyes. Harry couldn’t even hear his breathing over the roaring sound. He gripped Draco’s arm, gripped his wand, and braced himself. 

The door appeared slowly. It emerged from the wall before their eyes, tall and grand. Harry’s heart leapt into his throat. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Draco had finally done it. 

The doors suddenly swung open, and Harry realized the roaring sound was the raging fiendfyre. He felt the overwhelming heat like he was standing in front of a star. He could see serpents and monsters and everything evil taking form in front of them. There was nothing in the room, it had been burned long ago, and now the fiendfyre set eyes on them. It was hungry.

“Potter, now,” Draco yelled. He grabbed Harry’s arm with both hands. 

Harry lifted his wand and without speaking (he couldn’t speak with all the smoke) cast the spell at the fiendfyre. It didn’t feel like it normally did when Harry used magic, it felt like more. He realized, subconsciously, that Draco was steadying him with his own magic. It was such a dangerous and risky spell, but with Draco holding onto his arm and grounding him, Harry knew he could do it. 

The serpents and monsters flinched back as blue light from Harry’s wand over took them. They roared so loudly it pierced Harry’s ear and cracked the lenses on his glasses. He pushed his magic to go further, to take on more, and felt Draco’s magic mixing with his own. He lifted his other hand at the fiendfyre, and Draco’s hand fell to his shoulders. They stood, eyes wide at the blazing fire, and beat it back. Harry, although overwhelmed with how much he was controlling, was comforted by Draco’s magic. It draped itself over Harry, cooling his skin and protecting him from the all consuming heat. 

Harry didn’t know how long they stood, how long they listened to the fiendfyre scream as it died. He didn’t blink and he could barely breathe. It felt like years when he finally saw the last of the fire grow larger until it exploded into smoke and ash. His arms dropped, and he leaned back into Draco, exhausted. 

“Merlin,” Draco murmured in his ear. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s middle, supporting most of his weight. 

Harry coughed as the smoke left his throat. He turned in Draco’s arm and leaned his head on his shoulder. He felt like he had just held up the weight of a building and after ages it had finally been lifted. He felt overwhelmed and raw. 

“You did it.” Draco’s voice was in awe and he laughed against the side of Harry’s head. His hands gripped Harry’s sweater.

“Not without you, I didn’t.” Harry’s voice was rough like he had been screaming. 

Harry finally released Draco and turned to face the room. It was so dark in comparison to what they had been staring at. There were piles of ashes and burn marks all over the room. Without all the rubbish and furniture, the room was vast and empty. 

“We need to send a patronus to McGonagall,” Draco said.

“Oh, right.” Harry cast the spell and sent one to McGonagall telling her the fiendfyre was gone but they were going to investigate the room first to ensure all danger was gone. 

Draco stood beside Harry, took a hesitant step forward, then paused. “It feels odd. We’re the first ones stepping through that door since the fire started.”

Harry grabbed Draco’s arm. “Before you do, in case we suddenly perish upon entry, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Draco faced Harry and took a deep breath. For a few moments, he stared at Harry’s collarbone, working his jaw. Then, very quietly, he said, “If you don’t want to talk to me after this, I understand, I just… have to say this.”

Harry felt his heart drop. Draco looked so nervous, he was almost sure it was going to be bad news. 

“I just... “ Draco stared over Harry’s shoulder before finally making eye contact. “I just really, really like you. And... ” Draco took a shaky breath. “I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore, not after the other night.” 

“Oh, god,” Harry breathed. He knew he had something to Draco while he was drunk. “I told you I liked you didn’t I?”

Draco, who had drifted to looking at his shoes, snapped his head up to look at Harry. “You like me?”

Harry’s cheeks burned. “Are you saying I didn’t drunkenly confess?”

Draco’s lips quirked. “Not exactly. I basically did, though. I stroked your face a ton and nearly kissed you.”

“I wish you had,” Harry breathed. He reached up and put his hand on Draco’s neck. “Can I” 

Draco smiled at his shoes and nodded. He looked up and rested his hand on the back of Harry’s neck, threading his lovely fingers through the curls. He leaned in, and Harry felt his stomach flop. He took a shaky breath. 

Draco kissed him softly, slowly, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. He pressed his tongue lightly against Harry’s lip and Harry met him. They kissed in circles until Harry grew lightheaded, until Harry felt like his heart was going to explode. It was nothing like kissing Ginny or Cho, he really fancied Draco and Draco fancied him. 

Draco pulled back, and Harry followed him, pressing kisses against the side of his mouth and his soft cheek. “Harry,” Draco whispered. “We have to make sure the room is safe.”

“I know,” Harry said against Draco’s lips. “But I just really want to keep kissing you.”

Draco squeezed Harry’s neck, and let his hand trail along Harry’s shoulder to his hand. Draco’s hands were soft with faded calluses from years of quidditch. Harry intertwined their fingers. 

“After we check out the room,” Harry said, rubbing Draco’s hand with his thumb. “We’re going back to my dorm to snog. And fix my glasses."

Draco rolled his eyes. “As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the end of the story BUT I will be posting some smut that happens after the last chapter. They do go to Harry's dorm. A lot of snogging happens. 
> 
> I'm happy to have wrapped up this fic. I felt like this was a good place to end this section of the story. I know I left some plots hanging, like Harry's mental state, and the Harry's future, but we all know we were here for drarry. I hope you guys agree - I didn't plan for this to be so long originally and I reallllly didn't want for it to lose it's steam. 
> 
> Anyway, be excited for the smut I will be posting as a oneshot sequel to this fic.


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